


TiMER

by kellsbells



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - TiMER, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 92,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellsbells/pseuds/kellsbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I read a couple of fics a while ago that were WH13 crossovers with a movie called TiMER. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a variation on the soul mark idea – people get fitted with a piece of technology that counts down to when they’ll meet their soul mate. Both the fics I read were unfinished high school AUs (by Wicked Wisty and amtrak12 on FanFiction.net). I had the idea of writing something based in the Warehouse universe but with the same premise – that Myka’s TiMER goes off when she sees Helena for the first time in the Wells museum. It goes off into AU territory after that. I borrowed the idea of soulmates getting a holiday together from Caden Ashford’s wonderful soulmark story on AO3, The Possibility of Happiness. The rest of this is, as far as I am aware, all my idea. There are many tropes in this, I’m sure. Your feedback is most welcome. Bringing over from Tumblr in honour of the Bering and Wells AU week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Myka was focused, her mind taut as a drawn bow, when she and Pete entered the Wells Museum in London. And the target at which the arrow in her mind was pointed was HG Wells. Her favourite author, the man who taught her how to think and question, all from his vantage point a century ago – he was here, and yeah, he might be evil, but he was still a hero to her personally. The fact that he had been in the Bronze sector had come as a huge surprise to her – and a huge disappointment, if she was completely honest. But she reminded herself that they didn’t know why he’d been Bronzed in the first place. She knew that because she admired the man’s work so much, she was much more willing than Pete was to hear him out. She rubbed at the TiMER on her wrist. The damn thing was supposed to go off soon – she’d lost track of how long she had left, but she was not pleased. She didn’t need the complication, and she didn’t need some supposed miracle device to tell her who to love. She only got the damn thing to stop Tracy and Claudia’s whining. Claudia. Damn. There was the real source of her worry. How could Claudia help MacPherson? Myka sighed and Pete told her to get her eyes on the prize. She resisted the urge to punch him. Yes, the prize. HG Wells.

 

Helena George Wells was in the grip of madness. They had Bronzed her at her own request, yes, but had she known...had she understood what it would _do_ to her...she would have pulled the trigger herself a thousand times over. Her grief had changed, twisted, and she couldn’t look at this world and its oblivious residents without wanting to raze it to the ground.  James MacPherson had offered her anything she wanted as long as she helped him, but she didn’t think that extended to his own life. Returning here, to her old home, was intended as a means to an end, but she couldn’t suppress a hint of pain at the memories that assailed her. Charles and her father arguing in the drawing room, over her and her scandalous behaviour of course. The section of the library that he kept stocked with books that were ostensibly for him, but were really for her, to further her education in secret because her father refused to allow it. She never did say goodbye to Charles. Yet another regret in this whole bloody mess.

 

Myka saw the name in the guest book – Edward Prendick – and she knew that Wells was here. She tried to suppress the automatic excitement that she felt at meeting one of her literary heroes, and focused again on the business at hand. HG Wells could be a real threat. She had to be on her A game. A woman appeared from behind them, murmuring apologies and smiling, and that’s when it happened. The damn TiMER went off. Hers – and the woman’s. Myka gaped in astonishment as the loud beeping continued. The woman – who had black hair, pulled up almost severely, looked at her beeping wrist in confusion, and then tried to walk away. Myka grabbed at her wrist automatically, and was suddenly aware of an elbow hitting her in the face extremely hard before she passed out.

 

Helena noticed the curly-haired American – how could she not? The woman was so tall and confident, so unlike the ladies of her time. And those trousers fit her _very_ nicely. Helena brushed past her, smiling, and was momentarily shocked by the beeping that issued from the woman’s wrist – and her own. (She resolved to find out what the bloody thing was for – MacPherson had only said that she should wear it to blend in, and had made her attend a clinic where she had a variety of medical tests and was made to fill in pages of forms and answer interminable questions for half a day. She had been lost in her own thoughts for most of it, and hadn’t paid the attention she should.) Then the woman caught her wrist, and she noticed the gun hidden under her jacket, and simultaneously she noticed several burly, be-suited men blocking the doorway. Her elbow came up automatically and caught the tall woman in the face as Helena hooked a foot behind hers to make sure she fell. Helena started to flee towards the back exit before being hit by a surge of electricity that she recognised as coming from a Tesla before unconsciousness claimed her.

 

Pete didn’t know what to think. Not only had this extremely hot woman turned out to be Myka’s One, but then she knocked Myka out with a nifty martial arts move and ran like hell. Pete shot her automatically with the Tesla – nobody hurt his partner. Then the guys from TiMERcorp were moving in to take Myka and her One away for their furlough. There was no getting past it – he was going to have to talk to Artie. Everyone with a TiMER was required to sign – and have their employer sign – a release that made it a legal requirement for them to spend a month with their soulmate. He’d never heard of anyone knocking their One unconscious when the TiMER went off, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He asked the TiMER agents to contact him when Myka woke up, and went to contact Artie on the Farnsworth.

 

Artie was pissed, like Pete knew he would be, but he knew he had no choice but to leave Myka where she was. He told Pete to return to the Warehouse. Pete knew he didn’t have a hope in hell of catching HG Wells without Myka, so he headed back to the airport.  _Edward Prendick_. Pete sniggered to himself.

 

*

 

Myka woke up in an unfamiliar room with a hell of a headache. She tried to lift her head, but it was spinning, so she put it back down as gently as she could manage.

 

“You shouldn’t move too much. They said you might have a mild concussion. Sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t know about any of this.” The voice was English, cultured, and female.

 

The woman’s face came into view, as she crouched beside the bed. Myka suddenly remembered what had happened. The TiMER going off, this woman. Her One. _“She hit me – what the hell?”_

 

“What do you mean, you didn’t know about any of this? Any of what?” Myka asked, puzzled.

 

“This device – this TiMER. It was a means to fit in, nothing more. I knew nothing of its import. I still don’t, truth be told. I would never have hit you, but I saw your gun, and I realised you were trying to capture me. I was just trying to get away. I’m very sorry.” She did sound sincere, but Myka didn’t understand.

 

“Why would you not know what the TiMER was for? And why would your first instinct be to elbow me in the face, might I ask?” She was kind of pissed, truth be told. She didn’t really subscribe to this soulmate idea, not entirely, but she also didn’t expect to get hit in the face when the damn thing went off. A handshake would have been nice. And the fact that it was a woman? _That_ , she hadn’t even begun to process.

 

The woman began to explain, “I am not...from here. I was told that I should wear this device to fit in, that everyone has one. That’s all. I didn’t know what it signified. I am still trying to work out what it means. I have undergone a...trauma, you might say, recently, and when you grabbed my arm, I reacted instinctively. I was trapped for a time, and I’m afraid you frightened me. I apologise. I understand that your name is Myka Bering.” She inclined her head slightly, an archaic movement that oddly suited her. “Helena George Wells, at your service.”

 

That made Myka sit up, far too quickly, making her head spin wildly. “Wells? As in HG Wells?”

 

The woman sighed. “One and the same, I’m afraid. Am I to assume that you are an employee of the Warehouse, then?” She made no move to get up or move away. Myka was confused and simultaneously thrilled beyond measure.  HG Wells was a woman – an extremely attractive one – and her soulmate, of all things. How – she was a _woman_?

 

Myka gathered her scattered wits about her enough to answer.

 

“Yes, I work for the Warehouse. And I was there – I am here, in London – to find you. MacPherson let you out of the Bronze sector, and I was supposed to take you back.” Myka put her aching head in her hands.

 

“No-one said anything about you being a woman.” She meant both that no-one had mentioned that HG Wells was a woman, and that no-one had mentioned that her soulmate was going to be a woman. Helena seemed to pick up on both meanings.

 

“Ah.” Her eyes were sad. She stood up slowly, and Myka’s eyes followed her as she moved gracefully to a chair on the other side of the room. It was a well-appointed room, with lots of comfortable furniture, a large television, and a fireplace. Myka was lying on a day bed that had apparently been placed here for her because she’d been unconscious – it was out of place in the comfortable living room. This must be a furlough apartment. She remembered reading about it when she was signing the paperwork for the TiMER.

 

“I don’t suppose the TiMER guys left any pain meds for me, did they?”

 

“Oh yes, of course they did. I’m sorry. I’ll get them for you.” She came back a moment later with some pills and a glass of water, which Myka took gratefully. She lay down slowly.

 

“I guess we’ve got a lot to talk about, huh?”

 

Helena huffed out a laugh. “You could say that, I suppose.” She smiled wryly. Myka couldn’t help but notice that she was lovely when she smiled. When she frowned, her eyes were black and dangerous. But when she smiled...wow.

 

“So, do you think we should try this again?” Myka asked.

 

“What do you mean?” asked Helena, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

 

“I mean, this introduction thing? Because this stupid TiMER seems to think that we’re soulmates, and as much as I dislike the damn thing, I have to concede that the science is sound. So, I’m Myka Bering, and I’m pleased to meet you, Helena Wells.” She smiled gently at the confused author, whose eyebrows had climbed almost into her hairline at the word “soulmate”.

 

“And I am very pleased to meet you, Ms Bering.” She pulled her chair closer to the day bed and curled up, her legs underneath her. She watched Myka from beneath lowered lashes. Her face was almost expressionless, but Myka caught a hint of confusion under the mask Helena wore.

 

“And what is it that you do for a living, Ms Bering?” She smiled. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“I am with the US Secret Service, Ms Wells.” Myka grinned in return. “And you?”

 

“Well, I have been rather tied up recently, and unable to do anything of any great import. But at one time I was an author, inventor, and an agent of Warehouse 12.”

 

“What?!” Myka’s mouth was hanging open. “You were a Warehouse agent? So how – why – did you end up in the Bronze sector?”

 

Helena’s face darkened. Her eyes took on a dangerously blank look that, Myka was to learn, she always adopted when confronted with the idea of the Bronze sector.

 

“I chose to be Bronzed. Foolishly, as it turns out. I did not understand that I would be conscious, but immobile. For over a hundred years.” Myka gasped. Helena continued, “But I was out of control. The Regents – I understand why they had to step in. I had a daughter. She was murdered, and I was unable to accept the reality of her death. Which is when I invented my time machine. It transfers one’s consciousness. I was able to inhabit the body of my daughter’s nanny, but in doing so, I served only as a witness to the events that transpired that night. I was unable to change anything.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. She looked away. “I watched my daughter die, and I fear that did even worse damage to my mind. I began to undertake more and more desperate experiments to try and reverse her death, and in doing so, I caused an accident. Another Warehouse agent – a friend – was killed. It snapped me out of my frenzy, and I asked to be Bronzed, in the hope that I would awaken in a better time.” Her face twisted in a sneer. “And here I am, unBronzed by an idiotic man who wants only to steal from the Warehouse, and awake in a world that is even worse than the one I left.” Her voice rose a little, filled with tension and barely restrained rage.

 

Myka was horrified. What this woman had been through – she couldn’t imagine it. She leaned over and took one of Helena’s hands in both of hers. Helena jumped, and turned back to look at her.

 

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Helena. I’m sorry about your daughter. And I am so sorry about the Bronze – I didn’t know.” Myka’s eyes were clouded in pain. Helena was transfixed, momentarily, by her sincerity. She was such a striking woman, this Myka. She was not opposed to the idea of getting closer to this agent – she was really quite beautiful – but Helena had other plans when she was released from the Bronze, and they did not include finding a soulmate. She could bloody kill James for making her get this thing.

 

“Artie – the agent in charge at the Warehouse – he will want to speak to you when we get back. I will speak to him on your behalf, and to Mrs Frederic, the caretaker. I won’t let them Bronze you again, I promise.” Myka’s words were impulsive, but sincere.

 

Helena was stunned. “Why would you do that? Why would you speak for me? You hardly know me.”

 

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling about you. And even if I didn’t, no-one deserves to be in the Bronze sector, not if they’re conscious. That’s...it’s cruel. ” Myka shrugged, her eyes meeting Helena’s. She was so open, so honest. Helena’s heart stuttered a little.

 

“I...would you mind if I absented myself for a bit? I feel the need to take a bath. Getting shot by a Tesla always did take it out of me.” Helena smiled, not looking at Myka.

 

“You were Tesla’d? Did Pete do that? I’m so sorry.” Myka was aghast. She ran a hand through her hair restlessly.

 

“It’s quite alright. Your partner was just defending you. We tested them out on each other numerous times when we were designing them – Nikola was a friend. We perfected the Tesla together. But it does rather exhaust one.” With that, she smiled at Myka and left the room.

 

“Wow.” Myka thought. “HG Wells is a woman. She’s really pretty, and she invented the Tesla. With Nikola Tesla. And she invented a time machine. And apparently, she’s my soulmate. What the hell just happened?” Myka covered her eyes with one hand, her mind awhirl. “HG Wells is a woman.”


	2. Chapter 2

Helena escaped to the bathroom and began to run water for a bath, fascinated despite herself by the efficiency of the plumbing design and the sheer variety of toiletries on offer. This new world was so incredibly different, and some of the new things she saw and discovered lifted her rather fractured heart. The things that remained the same, however, only served to strengthen her resolve. Sexism, racism, hatred, murder, war – James had smiled cruelly as he filled her in briefly on the history of the 20th Century, and had taken a great deal of pleasure in her reaction - the unquenchable rage that filled her upon hearing of the atrocities that men continued to visit upon one another. The Warehouse remained a source of pain, holding her prisoner once again, if in slightly better circumstances (and with infinitely more pleasant company than her own insanity). When she came round from the effects of the Tesla, two burly men were holding her up, half dragging her to this small dwelling – an apartment, they had called it. They had deposited her and the unconscious body of Agent Bering without ceremony in the living area, and had left quietly – one of them, oddly had given her a wink and a thumbs up as he left. The sound of the door locking behind them had brought only a sigh of resignation from her lips.

 

She didn’t understand what the bloody TiMER was for, not really. Agent Bering’s comments on the matter had only served to confuse her further. Soulmates? How could anyone possibly determine, using only the answers from some personality questions (no matter how detailed) and a blood test, that two people were meant to be together forever? And why on earth would an agent of the Warehouse in this time be considered a match for her? She didn’t hate the Warehouse itself – in fact she had always had a special bond with the place - but she was extremely wary of the Regents, and of Irene Frederic. The woman had attempted to stand up for her following her actions, her insanity when Christina died. But she hadn’t succeeded in changing the Regents’ minds, and had allowed them to exact their punishment as they saw fit. And Helena couldn’t quite forgive her for it. They had given her several options, and she had chosen to be Bronzed, a traitorous remnant of hope driving her to think that perhaps the world would be better in the future. But it was most decidedly _not_ better. Men, it appeared, had only found more inventive ways to hurt one another. And the plight of women in this time made her want to scream in frustration. Here, in England and most of Europe and the Americas, women were ostensibly treated as equals. However, judging from the catcalls she herself had experienced from a building site during her first excursion into London two days ago, some things remained the same even here. Men remained Neanderthals in many ways. And when she looked at the terrible things happening in the Middle East, the many wars that had rocked and destroyed this world, the countless deaths in the name of this god or that god, and the women forced to cover their entire bodies for fear that men would be unable to control their urges if they saw so much as a hint of ankle or elbow – dear God, she wanted to burn it all, burn it to the ground. She gritted her teeth in rage and tried to calm herself. It would not do to lose her control. She watched the water swirl as the bath filled, soapy bubbles obscuring much of the surface.

 

Her mind turned to the Agent in the other room. She was unsure, still, if the woman really was her alleged soulmate or her jailer. She was so beautiful, so vibrant, and the way she had responded when Helena told her about Christina and her Bronzing had almost made her come undone at the seams. To be offered sympathy, and so genuinely – the woman had moved Helena. Helena did not wish to be moved. She had told Helena she would speak to the Regents, and that she wouldn’t let them Bronze her again. Part of Helena wanted to believe this young woman, but the other part remembered Irene Frederic’s promises of a century ago, and an angry sneer crossed her face at the thought. She stripped quickly and sank her body into the hot water, wishing that the grief and death and pain could be washed away as easily as the dirt upon her skin.

 

*

 

Myka woke up a few hours later, her headache much improved. She looked around and noticed Helena sitting on one end of the large, comfortable looking sofa. She was reading, apparently completely absorbed. She had changed out of the suit she had worn at the Wells Museum, and had let her hair down. It was black and silky, hanging down past her shoulders, like a waterfall of ink. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a light blue linen shirt, wrinkled and open to the third button. She was, to put it simply, breathtaking. Myka observed her silently. She had never had a relationship with a woman before. She had offers, and a few kisses and fumbles at college, but she had never gone there with a woman. She could see how she might fall for _this_ woman, though. She was incredibly beautiful, but it was more than that. There was something in Myka that... _recognised_ Helena, somehow. She was helpless to explain it, but the TiMER device had never once been wrong, if you believed the hype. And she had to admit, reluctantly, that she did. Everyone that Myka knew who had one was still with the partner the TiMER had chosen for them – and those kinds of statistics were unheard of for those who didn’t have one. She let herself consider the possibility that this woman might be her future.

 

*

 

Helena could feel Myka’s eyes on her, but chose to remain motionless. She had watched Myka for a time as she slept, and she felt that she owed the woman a chance to have a good look at her without interruption – it was only fair. James had introduced her to the concept of the internet, and had shown her briefly how to use a computer. The laptop (her mind stumbled over the unfamiliar word) in the other room had provided her with lots of information about the TiMER company, the device itself, the algorithms involved in choosing soulmates, and she was convinced by the science, at least in part. Of all the people that had a TiMER (which was most of the Western world at least) this woman was the most likely person to be her ‘One’, her match in every way. It was quite disconcerting that a company could have this much information about individuals, to the point that they could pinpoint the day and time when they would meet. Surveillance society had its downside – or its upside, she supposed, depending on one’s perspective. Something about the whole thing made Helena suspicious, however. It still didn’t make sense to her. She was also resistant to the possibility of a soulmate, to say the least. Her plans here in this century did not include love. She had loved Christina so much that losing her had felt like losing a limb. The pain was staggering, even now, after more than a hundred years. And Helena was determined to end the scourge of the human race on this planet, to allow the earth to recover, and to begin again. Perhaps this time the human race would choose to build something beautiful, a utopia, together instead of choosing murder, rape and war. But her eyes moved, of their own accord, it seemed, to meet the eyes of the woman considering her so thoughtfully from the day bed. Did Myka Bering deserve to die for the sins of men long dead? Helena felt, for the first time, a wavering in her determination.

 

*

 

“Hello again.” Myka said. She was a little flushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring. 

 

“Hello Myka.” Helena replied quietly, watching Myka closely. “Did you sleep well? Are you feeling any better?” Her eyes were dark and unreadable. Something tightened in Myka’s chest. This woman was dangerous, but something about her drew Myka in. Myka wanted to know her, know what she was really like under all the pretence, the charm she so effortlessly projected. She was a thing of beauty but at this point she might as well be a spectre. Her eyes were politely blank - there was no seeing into those black orbs. She was all smoke and evasion, but if she was to be Myka’s one, then she would have to open up. Myka wouldn’t allow anything else.

 

There was a knock at the door, interrupting their careful consideration of one another. Myka went to answer it, moving carefully so as not to worsen her headache, and was presented with dinner delivered by an employee of TiMERcorp. The food was accompanied by a large bouquet of flowers, signed from the Warehouse staff. Myka smiled and thanked the young man and wheeled the trolley in to the room.

 

“Helena?” she called, leaning over the trolley to pick up the plates and move them to the table. She was startled when the reply came from directly behind her.

 

“I’m right here darling, no need to shout.” Her voice was low and sultry, and a little mocking. Myka flushed, but it wasn’t entirely from the woman’s breath against her ear. She didn’t like to be mocked.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” She straightened and turned to meet Helena’s eyes, letting a little of her anger show through. “Dinner’s here.”

 

“So I see.” Helena’s expression was pleasant but neutral. She had noted Myka’s anger and had apparently decided to back off a little. Good.

 

They ate in relative silence, commenting only on the food and the flowers. Helena did her best to hide it, but she was watching Myka. Myka was not watching her. She was miles away, it seemed. Helena decided that it was best to leave the woman to her thoughts, and ate the rest of the food without comment. Still, her eyes lingered on the silent agent.

 

Myka was thinking about Sam, and how she had thought he was her “One”. This, of course, was before the TiMER device had been invented. She had loved him so much. His death had shaken the foundation of her world, the foundation of who she was. She was wary of this woman who was her perfect match. How much more painful would it be if she loved again, loved someone more than she had loved Sam, and then lost them again? She figured that a soulmate would mean more to her than Sam had, and somehow she couldn’t imagine that.

 

After they’d finished eating, Myka cleared the plates on to the trolley and set it outside the door, and sat herself down in the living area, drawing her legs up underneath her as she nursed a glass of red wine. Helena followed her and took the other end of the couch, still watching Myka silently.

 

Myka looked up.

 

“So, how much do you know about this TiMER business? Not much, I guess, since you’ve only been out of the Bronze for a short time?” Helena nodded.

 

“I know only what I have gleaned from some...internet research, is it?” Myka nodded. “That you are my match, in that you are the only one who has this device that the algorithm considers a match to me. I couldn’t really understand why James insisted I go through the process, but he said it was essential to my blending in. Little did he know that it was the very reason that I _wouldn’t_ blend in – that I would be caught by the Warehouse before I had even taken one step towards his goal.” She smiled grimly. “I find myself rather pleased that he has been thwarted in his petty plans. That I was Bronzed for 100 years and awoke to find that the main goal of most humans is still the acquisition of wealth – well, it quite baffles me.” Myka nodded again. It made sense to her that the woman who had written the books she so admired would be appalled by the behaviour of the human race – still so petty in its evil, even after a hundred years of supposed progress.

 

“Well, firstly, you haven’t been caught by the Warehouse, Helena. We are here on furlough. That’s what they call it when soulmates meet. They take you away to an apartment like this one where you and your soulmate can get to know one another. You get a month together, to decide if you want to stay together. Apparently, no-one has ever decided not to stay together in the history of TiMERcorp.” Helena looked surprised, and relieved.

 

“So I have not been imprisoned here, with you?” Myka was a little hurt by the relief in her voice. She snapped a little as a result.

 

“No. And I’m sorry if my company is a burden to you.” Her tone was sharp.

 

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. Your company is welcome, Myka, believe me. But I thought you were here to watch me. I thought I had been imprisoned again. Obviously I have misconstrued the situation.” She smiled apologetically, apparently sincere. Myka watched her carefully for a moment before continuing her explanation.

 

“So, we can leave here if we want to, but we have to stay together for this month. That’s a condition of having the TiMER. And that – and all this,” she indicated the apartment and its contents, “is part of the reason why it costs so damn much. I’m still paying mine off, and I only did this to placate my sister and Claudia.” Helena smiled at her.

 

“And who is Claudia?”

 

“A friend.  A Warehouse colleague. I think you’d like her, actually.” Myka was momentarily saddened. She didn’t know if she would ever see Claudia again, let alone introduce her to Helena.

 

“I hope I get the chance to meet her.” Helena was hesitant, but again, sincere – at least as far as Myka could tell. Myka allowed herself to relax a little.

 

“I know it’s probably hard to believe, but I am not your enemy, Helena. I was sent to retrieve you, because you were released from the Bronze sector without authorisation. And because James MacPherson is dangerous – he already killed Artie once.” Helena raised one eyebrow delicately.

 

“Artie had the Phoenix with him.” Helena nodded in apparent recognition of the artefact.

 

”MacPherson blew up the umbilicus while Artie, my boss, was in there – it’s the entryway into the Warehouse. MacPherson meant to kill him. So, you can understand why we would be wary of anyone that MacPherson freed. And we have no record of you, Helena. I had no idea HG Wells was in the Warehouse.”

 

Helena nodded. “I understand why you would be wary. James MacPherson is a traitorous cur. And he is dangerous. It was my intention to rid you of him, I confess. He would have killed all of you without thought. I have no desire to see any more...needless death.” Myka noticed her slight hesitation and frowned.

 

“Needless? Isn’t all murder needless?”

 

“I suppose that depends on your perspective. Try as I might, I cannot see the deaths of the men who killed my daughter as needless.” She passed her hand over her eyes wearily.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.” Myka felt a pulling in her chest at Helena’s obvious pain. She seemed cold and dangerous when it came to those who crossed her, understandably so in the case of those who had murdered her daughter. But she was also so vulnerable, so damaged. And she was HG Wells, the father of science fiction. Or mother. Myka was drawn to her, and frightened of her at the same time. All of her instincts were telling her to arrest this woman, to keep her away from the people she cared about. But her heart was telling her that this woman could already be one of the latter.

 

“You know, it’s been a long day, Helena. I think I’m going to turn in. I don’t usually go to sleep this early, but somebody kicked the crap out of me today, so...” She grinned to take the sting out of her words.

 

“Of course. I quite understand. I find myself quite overtired too, probably as a result of the Tesla. It was never my favourite way of being rendered unconscious, but I am quite sure it was more pleasant than being elbowed in the face. I am genuinely sorry about that, Myka.” She smiled and Myka’s heart lifted a little. She was so incredibly beautiful.

 

“That’s okay. Goodnight, Helena.” She smiled back at her newly discovered soulmate, and tentatively made her way to the bedroom. The only bedroom, as it turned out.

 

“Damn.” She swore softly. She had somehow forgotten this small detail when telling Helena about the furlough process. She had never envisioned her soulmate being a woman, but in some ways this might be less uncomfortable than sharing a bed with a man she’d never met. She wondered idly how many relationships had succeeded because of the bed part of the equation. Then she shivered as she remembered the unrelieved blackness of Helena’s eyes when she implied that she had killed her daughter’s murderers, and that she had planned to kill MacPherson. She found herself wishing that she still had her gun. TiMERcorp must have taken it until her furlough was finished. She pinched the bridge of her nose, lost in thought.

 

She went back into the living area and realised that she must have been in the bedroom longer than she’d thought, for Helena was asleep, drawn in on herself in the foetal position. She didn’t look terrifying, she looked terrified. She was twitching and writhing. A nightmare, and clearly a bad one. Myka’s heart twisted at the pain and fear on her face. What was that myth about waking people from a nightmare? Her eidetic memory seemed to be failing her.

 

“Helena.” She touched the woman’s shoulder hesitantly, bracing herself for another elbow in the eye. “Helena!”

 

Black eyes met green, wide with terror. Helena didn’t move. She appeared to be frozen in fear.

 

“Helena, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She seemed to be coming round a little. “You’re here, with me. Myka, remember?” Helena blinked, starting to wake up. Myka sat down next to her for a moment, rubbing her shoulder. She really hoped Helena wouldn’t hit her again. She still had a headache, despite the pain pills.

 

“I’m sorry, Myka. I think I was having a nightmare.” She looked away.

 

“It’s okay, I understand. I can’t imagine what it was like, being Bronzed. It must have been terrifying.” Myka was horrified to see that Helena was trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But you’re not there anymore, you’re here. And I am too, for what it’s worth. You’re not alone, at least.”

 

Helena smiled weakly. “It is worth a lot more than you know, Myka. Thank you for being so kind.”

 

Myka smiled back at her, and the air thickened, somehow. Helena was biting her lip, and neither of them were moving. Myka was suddenly very aware of her hand on Helena’s shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but now it was all she could do to keep from cupping Helena’s face in her palm, and tipping her head back so that she could...she shook her head, breaking the tension.

 

“I...I came back in to tell you that we are apparently supposed to share a room. It was part of the contract we both signed. It didn’t occur to me until now, which is odd, because I have an eidetic memory. I’m starting to think your elbow broke it, actually.” She smiled nervously.

 

“It’s not a problem, Myka. I can sleep on the sofa or on this - day bed, did you call it? - if you prefer. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“No. I signed up for this damn TiMER, and I said I would abide by the rules when I matched. We ought to give this a real try, I guess. So you can share the bed with me, assuming that you’re not too uncomfortable with that idea.” 

 

“On the contrary, I think having you there will be a comfort. It will help me remember that I am no longer in the Bronze sector, at least.”

 

Myka stood and held her hand out to help Helena up. “Shall we?”

 

Clothing, toiletries and entertainment – music, books, movies and games – were provided by TiMERcorp. Myka rummaged in a drawer and grabbed some soft cotton pyjamas from the chest in the bedroom. She changed in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and using the ‘loo’ as they called it here. Before she returned to the bedroom, she took a moment to talk to her reflection in the mirror. “You can do this, Bering, it’s just a sleepover.”

 

“Yeah, right,” she groaned to herself as she opened the door.

 

Helena was already under the covers when she returned. Apparently she had changed in the room. Myka was suddenly pleased she’d taken the time to talk to herself in the mirror, otherwise she might have caught Helena in mid-change. Her cheeks got a little hot at the thought. She didn’t really get why, because she wasn’t into women, not really.

 

“Are you alright, Myka? You look a little flushed.”

 

“I’m fine, Helena, thanks. Just a little overtired I think.” _(Jeez, Bering, you covered that well.)_

 

Myka had brought a book with her from the shelf in the living room. It was newer than she usually bothered with – she had a thing for 19th century authors. She stifled a snigger at the thought, and her unintended double entendre, climbing into bed beside Helena.

 

“You’re a strange one, Myka.” Helena hadn’t missed her laughing at the jokes in her head, apparently.

 

“You have no idea.” She smiled at Helena and then tried to get lost in her book. Philippa Gregory had nothing on HG Wells. She gave up after a few pages and turned her lamp off.

 

“I should warn you, Helena. My last boyfriend always referred to me as a bit of a snuggler. So don’t be surprised if you wake up wearing a Myka scarf.” Helena chuckled.

 

“I should consider it an honour, Agent Bering.”

 

Damn, how did she make that sound so sexy? Myka laughed softly in response and turned over, hoping that putting her back to Helena might reduce the odds of any inadvertent contact that neither of them were ready for.

 

It did not. Myka woke with her arm draped across Helena’s abdomen and her face buried in her neck. She smelled amazing, like vanilla and apples. Thankfully, it appeared that Helena was deeply asleep, so she inched her arm away and pulled herself quietly out of bed. She was almost out the door when she heard a soft “Good morning,” from Helena.

 

Damn. Busted!

 

She smiled wryly and made her way to the bathroom to shower.


	3. Chapter 3

Helena had, quite despite herself, enjoyed her evening with Myka immensely. They had eaten in awkward silence, caused in part, she knew, by her own attempts to keep Myka off balance with sly mockery. Her blushes and caring behaviour had made Helena misjudge the woman. She was compassionate, but there was a core of steel in the agent. Myka Bering was not to be mocked, it appeared. Their conversation afterwards, however, had lightened Helena’s heart. Myka’s purpose in being here with her was personal, and not related to the Warehouse. The TiMER device was considered a genuine signifier of compatibility, and Myka was taking this – a potential relationship between _them_ – seriously. Helena couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had been taken seriously as a person by anyone except for Caturanga. Let alone as a possible – partner? Was that the word they used now? Myka had explained that Helena was not a prisoner; that this...furlough was a holiday of sorts, to allow them to get to know one another. To determine if they wished to be a couple. Which was apparently allowed in this time. Two women could be in a relationship openly. That had made Helena blink. How times had changed, in that aspect at least!

 

They had talked about MacPherson, and about Myka’s boss Artie, who James had already killed once. That revelation didn’t surprise her – she and her fellow agents had recovered from a few apparent deaths in her time at Warehouse 12. The subject was difficult territory for them both, but Helena surprised herself by wanting to be honest with Myka. Not about everything, of course, but about MacPherson – why not? The man’s intentions had been thwarted for now, and Helena had done nothing wrong. Yet.

 

Then Myka had gone to bed, and Helena had slipped into sleep herself on the sofa, too tired to search out her own room. And then the nightmare had gripped her. She was back in the Bronze sector, lost in her own mind, watching Christina die time and time again. And then Myka was there, her green eyes filled with concern. Helena’s heart was racing from the nightmare, but now it was thumping even harder as she tried hard to look away from those eyes. Filled with compassion for _her._  There was a moment when she thought the agent might kiss her – something about the look in her eyes - but the moment passed. Helena surprised herself by feeling a touch of regret.

 

Sharing a bed with Myka was definitely no chore. Myka was determined when she said that she was going to give “this” a try, and Helena couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. Truth be told, she didn’t want to – she had no desire to be in the dark alone again. And when she awoke to the delicious sensation of a warm body wrapped around her own, she was quite overcome. She feigned sleep as the woman gently removed herself from under the covers, but she couldn’t resist a flirtatious, “Good morning,” when Myka thought she had made good her escape. She stifled a laugh as Myka froze, and then crept away.

 

*

 

They had a quiet breakfast and then Myka asked Helena what she wanted to do.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, what do you want to do today? We’re not prisoners, we can go out anywhere we like. Is there anything you would like to see in modern-day London?” Myka asked, raising an eyebrow at Helena.

 

“I’m not sure, I’m afraid. I haven’t had any time to acclimatise to being here yet. What would you suggest?” She smiled at Myka, a little shyly. The expression looked strange on her face, as if she was unaccustomed to it.

 

“Well, why don’t we have a look at the information TiMERcorp left – perhaps they’ll give us some ideas? I haven’t done any sightseeing in London for some time – I’ve been too busy with work.”

 

They sat next to one another on the couch. The day bed had been removed overnight as they slept. Myka was surprised that she’d slept through that – she was normally a light sleeper, but she had slept unusually deeply the night before. Probably the face-elbowing, she reasoned. Her eyes went to Helena unconsciously, and she chewed on the end of a curl thoughtfully.

 

They looked through the information that TiMERcorp provided.

 

_“TiMERcorp recommends that newly-matched soulmates discuss their likes and dislikes and choose activities based on what is most likely to appeal to both parties. Your compatibility has already been determined, but the hallmark of any good relationship is open and honest communication.”_

 

Hmm. She had yet to see any real evidence of open and honest communication from this woman. She had answered Myka’s questions truthfully enough, but she was concealing plenty – her intentions were unclear.

 

“So, do you see anything you like?”

 

Helena smirked at her for a moment, deliberately allowing her eyes to wander down Myka’s body. Myka reddened. Helena winked at her brazenly.  _(Well,you did kind of walk into that one, Bering...)_

 

“Honestly, I’m a little overwhelmed by the variety of activities we could undertake, Myka.” The way she said Myka’s name made her want to shiver.

 

Myka tried desperately to get her heart under control. Her voice came out as a bit of a squeak, but she thought she got away with it. “Okay, why don’t we try to simplify things, then? What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”

 

“I used to enjoy attending the opera. And I have always enjoyed museums. And I used to walk in the Botanical Gardens with Christina. She loved flowers.” Helena examined her fingernails as she spoke, not meeting Myka’s eye.

 

“I have no objection to going to a museum or two. And I’ve never been to an opera. So we can do that. Any particular type of museum?” Helena shook her head, not looking up.

 

“Well, we could start with the British Museum, and take it from there. Then we could have lunch and maybe go for a walk in Kew Gardens? How does that sound?”

 

Helena lifted her head and smiled, amused by Myka’s professional demeanour, how she took charge. Myka flushed.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Not funny, it’s just nice to see you in your element. You’re so bossy. I like it.” She gave Myka another saucy wink.

 

Myka’s face was flaming.  How did this damn woman make her so self-conscious? She was a Secret Service agent, for the love of God! She couldn’t help but grin, however, at the amusement on Helena’s face.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here and go see London.” Her face was still red, but she clawed the tattered remains of her dignity around her and carried on. It was so difficult to keep her composure around this woman. She wondered if that was why they’d been matched. Pete was always saying she needed to loosen up.

 

A TiMERcorp car dropped them off at the British Museum. They were provided with charge cards to pay for food or anything else they might need. Myka hadn’t been lying when she said the TiMER was expensive – she was still paying a chunk from her monthly salary, but she supposed it was worth it when the cost of the furlough was completely covered.

 

They wandered idly round the museum. Helena was interested in everything from the Ancient Greeks to modern technology. She was extremely intelligent too, asking the museum staff questions on a variety of subjects about which she appeared to have a great depth of knowledge.

 

They grew tired after a time and decided to sit down for some lunch at the Court restaurant in the museum. Myka ordered a salad, and after some careful perusal of the menu, Helena ordered a haddock dish that she said was most similar to the fare of her time.

 

“I have to confess, Myka, that the sheer variety of food and – well, _everything_ in this time is overwhelming. The differences are staggering. I believe it will take a long time for me to adjust, if I ever do.” She looked small in the large restaurant, her eyes huge and wide in her too-pale face. Myka’s heart went out to her in that moment. She had no idea what it was like in the late 1800s in London other than what she had read in books, but she suspected that even just being in crowds as large as those in the museum was overwhelming for Helena. She reached over and took her hand, smiling.

 

“I have every confidence in your ability to adapt, Helena. Your books were an inspiration to me growing up. That brilliant mind of yours will catch up.”

 

Helena flushed. “You read my books?” Myka nodded, smiling. “Well, they were Charles’, I suppose. I had the ideas and he wrote them down. And provided the moustache, of course.” She smirked.

 

“Are you serious? Yes, I read your books.” Myka rolled her eyes. “You’re considered the father of science fiction.” Helena’s eyebrows rose at that. “I love your writing, the ideas you put forward. Your words got me through some very difficult times in my life.” She quoted softly, “ _I hope, or I could not live_.”

 

Helena’s flush deepened, spreading down her neck and chest. Which Myka was very carefully _not_ looking at. Helena’s brown eyes were wide, and filled with unshed tears. Without conscious thought, Myka touched her cheek gently, rubbing her thumb over Helena’s cheekbone.

 

“You inspired me. I am so very glad to have met you. And I am extremely glad to know that it was, in fact, a woman who wrote those words that touched my heart.” Her voice was gentle. She smiled at Helena, whose tears were now spilling over onto her cheeks. Myka brushed the tears away with her thumb.

 

The waiter arrived at the table with their drinks and the moment was over. Myka took a deep breath. _“Keep your hands to yourself, Bering!” she told herself sternly. “You don’t even know her!”_

 

Helena didn’t seem to mind her getting handsy, though. Her hand was pressed to her cheek where Myka had touched her, and she watched Myka wordlessly for long moments before lifting her glass and proposing a toast.

 

“To Wells and Bering.” She smirked at Myka.

 

“Bering and Wells...” Myka smirked right back.

 

They took a walk in Kew Gardens, Helena pointing out different plants and explaining the meanings behind various flowers.  (Myka thought that if Helena told her that the lily means ‘I dare you to love me’ she might actually swoon.)

 

“Is there anything you don’t know everything about, HG Wells?” Myka asked archly.

 

“I know enough, Agent Bering, to know that I really know nothing at all. This new world – I know nothing of it.” Her smile was sad, this time. “And I know nothing about you. How did you come to be an agent of the Warehouse? And the Secret Service – I thought they looked after the President?”

 

Myka explained what the Secret Service did, and matter-of-factly explained about Sam’s death, and being partnered with Pete before Mrs Frederic appeared out of nowhere (scaring the bejesus out of her) and sent her to South Dakota.

 

“Irene Frederic?”

 

Myka was surprised. “Yes. How do you know that?”

 

“I met her – before. She is the Caretaker now, I assume?”

 

“Yes. How did you know her?”

 

“I would rather not discuss that, Myka, I’m sorry.” Her voice was flat. How had she met Mrs Frederic? Was Mrs F really that old? Endless wonder, indeed. Myka sighed, confused.

 

Helena’s voice broke in to her thoughts. “So what was it that led you to the Secret Service in the first place, Myka?”

 

Myka thought for a moment.

 

“I think I wanted to help people, to protect them. I went to college and studied languages for a while, then medicine for a while – pre-med – and then law, but none of them appealed to me enough. So I joined the Secret Service. I have always been restless, so doing something that keeps me active – it’s good for me.” Helena nodded, watching her closely.

 

“And your partner – Sam – he was your lover?”

 

Myka huffed in surprise. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Helena simply raised an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, he was my lover. He was married, but separated from his wife. I shouldn’t have been involved with him, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself. When he died, I...well, I lost myself for a while.” Helena took her hand for a moment in sympathy. “The Warehouse helped bring me back. And Pete. He’s my best friend.”

 

“Tell me about him.” And Myka did. They strolled through the Gardens, and she told Helena tales of Pete’s antics, how he always managed to touch the wrong thing when they were hunting an artefact, the way he always talked with his mouth full, and the way he always encouraged her to do things that she wouldn’t normally do.

 

“You love him, don’t you?” There was a hint of something – was it jealousy? – in her voice.

 

“Of course. He’s my best friend. But he’s like a brother to me. And his TiMER is still ticking away.” She smiled at Helena crookedly, and tapped the wrist that still held her TiMER, reminding the woman that _they_ were matched.

 

Helena looked at Myka’s wrist, and then her own. She took a step towards Myka, suddenly, and leaned up to brush her lips softly across Myka’s. She smiled wickedly, and then continued walking. Myka stood still, her hand at her lips, eyes wide. That felt – wow.

 

“Are you coming?” She didn’t turn her head, just continued walking. Myka started to follow her. The woman had confidence, she’d give her that. Now, if she could just remember how to walk...

 

They went to a coffee shop for a while, talking about literature. They had a lot in common. Helena loved Shakespeare, and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of his works. So did Myka, of course, but she had an eidetic memory. This was the first time she’d met anyone who could keep up with her. It was exhilarating.

 

The TiMERcorp car appeared every time they wanted to go somewhere, as if by magic. Myka wondered if they’d been taking lessons from Mrs Frederic. They returned to the apartment to regroup.

 

They had dinner at the apartment delivered by the same man who’d served them the day before. Dinner was this time accompanied by a short note from Pete.

 

_“Mykes,_

_I hope you and the hot and scary English chick are having fun. I want details when you get back, ok? The hunt for you-know-who has stalled, but everyone is fine._

_See you in a month._

_The Petemeister.”_

She smiled despite herself. He was such a goof, but he made her laugh even when she was at her most tense. Helena asked what she was smiling at, and she showed her the note.

 

“Hot and scary, hmm? I’ll show him scary when I see him...He shot me with a bloody Tesla.” she smiled wolfishly at Myka, winking.

 

_When_ she sees him? Myka thought about that for a moment. Helena was planning to meet her partner – did that mean she was taking this whole soulmate thing seriously? She tried to suppress the hope that welled up in her at that thought. She didn’t even know if she wanted this. Just because the TiMER said so, it didn’t mean they had to be together. Did it?

 

They decided that they’d had enough sightseeing for one day, and settled down on the couch to watch a movie. Helena was impressed by the clarity of the reproduction of images and sound, and the CGI fascinated her – Myka explained the concept after something physically impossible had happened in the movie and Helena had gaped in confusion. Myka watched Helena’s face more than she watched the movie.  Expressions and ideas flitted across the author’s face as she watched avidly. She seemed much more interested in the technology than the content, which was just as well because there only seemed to be a choice of crappy romantic comedies or action movies. Myka had chosen one of the latter at random. She didn’t think much of the movie but she was fascinated by Helena’s reactions. She thought she was being subtle in her observation, but Helena smirked at her knowingly when she caught Myka staring.

 

“Sorry,” Myka mumbled, red-faced. Helena just chuckled and turned her attention back to the screen.

 

The next morning, Myka awoke to the smell of apples and vanilla, with soft hair tickling her nostrils, and a warm body pressed closely against her own. A soft body underneath her own outstretched arm. Her lips pressed to a long neck. She was too tired to think, she just made a soft noise of contentment and burrowed into that neck a little more.


	4. Chapter 4

Helena was unsure of what her next move should be. She had considered simply leaving when Myka’s back was turned in order to continue her plans, but given that Myka was a Warehouse agent, she couldn’t see how she could leave and then try to gain the woman’s trust at a later date. Her plans depended on access to the current Warehouse, and without the co-operation of this woman and her colleagues, Helena would not have that opportunity. So she decided to wait and see how things developed. It went against all of her instincts to do so. She had been in the Bronze Sector for over a hundred years, scheming and perfecting her plans, and now that it was time to enact them, she had been stymied by this TiMER, a modern invention that she couldn’t possibly have predicted. She resigned herself to remaining here with this woman until matters became clearer, or until she was forced to act. She was surprised to find that she enjoyed herself very much as they spent time together at the museum and the botanical gardens. Myka was engaging and intelligent, and it was no chore to spend time in her company, despite the impatience that chafed at Helena.

 

The following morning, her nightmares had woken her, but what was happening here – again - was no nightmare - quite the opposite, in fact. The long body wrapped around hers was not confining, but rather comfortable and safe. And terrifying, because now that she knew Myka Bering a little better after their day together, Helena felt something she had not felt since Christina was alive. She felt content. Myka stirred a little against her, nestling her face more closely into Helena’s neck before falling asleep again. Helena was overwhelmed at the safety, the happiness, the contact that she had not felt for too long, longer than any human should ever have to go without touch. She did not fight the tears that stung her eyes, but let them overflow and fall as they would. She did not move away.

 

*

 

Myka was embarrassed but resigned to awake and find herself once again attempting to climb Helena like a spider monkey. She began to move away, but was surprised when Helena’s arms tightened around her.

 

“Please don’t go. Not yet.”

 

Myka lifted her head enough to see the tears streaming down Helena’s face. Helena’s eyes were closed. Myka chose to say nothing, simply using a corner of the blanket to wipe the other woman’s face. She settled herself against Helena again, kissed her cheek, and held on.  She wasn’t a naturally tactile person, unless you counted punching Pete, but something about this woman, the contradiction of vulnerability and strength, brought it out in Myka. Helena was in an entirely new world, virtually everyone and everything she had known were gone, and she was still standing. Myka pulled Helena a little closer and stroked the woman’s shoulder softly. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of the body against hers, the softness of the skin beneath her hand.

 

It was a short while later, or an eternity, possibly, when Helena sighed softly and said, “Thank you.” Myka lifted her hand hesitantly and stroked Helena’s face with a thumb gently.

 

“Sure.” She drew back a little, noting that Helena’s eyes were now dry. “Are you okay?”

 

Helena laughed at that. “I should say not, Myka. I am lost, here in this time, and I have been incarcerated alone in my own mind for a century. I have what I believe you might call ‘issues’.”

 

Myka laughed quietly at Helena’s attempt at levity. “You’ve been learning the lingo, I see.”

 

“I’m not entirely sure what that means, I’m afraid. But I am trying to adapt. I listen.” She smiled, gently, turning her head to meet Myka’s eyes. Her eyes were dark, but they were more open, somehow, than before.

 

“You are a kind woman, Myka. Thank you for comforting me.”

 

“It’s the least I can do, Helena.”

 

“Don’t dismiss it like that, Myka. You comforted a virtual stranger. Not many people would be so kind as to do that.” Her tone was stern. Her face was only an inch away from Myka’s. They were in each other’s arms, and had been for some time, but when their eyes met, it was somehow incredibly intimate, much more so than the physical contact. Myka felt her face redden, and her heart began to beat harder. Her voice was weak as she replied.

 

“You’re hardly a stranger, Helena. Now, what would you like to do today?” Myka gently (and, if she was honest with herself, somewhat reluctantly) disentangled herself from Helena, and sat up, running her hands through her hair and trying to tame her curls into some sort of order, trying to give her hands something to do. Her mind was racing, and she had to concentrate hard to stop her breath from coming in gasps.

 

“Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea. As I believe I mentioned yesterday, I feel rather spoiled for choice.”

 

If Helena noticed the sudden change in Myka’s demeanour, she chose not to comment. They might be soulmates, according to this TiMER company, whoever they were, but apparently she couldn’t read Myka’s mind, soulmate or not. Her tone was light, but mercifully not flirtatious. Myka didn’t think she could deal with flirtatious after the way Helena had just looked at her. 

 

“What do you like to do, Myka? Yesterday, we did things that I mentioned I’d enjoyed in the past. What about you – what do you do in your leisure time?” Helena sat up, leaning her body against the headboard. 

 

Myka paused for a moment.

 

“You know, Helena, I’m not sure I even know how to answer that question. I have been on duty in one way or another ever since I joined the Secret Service. I like to read, as you know, but other than that, I haven’t really done much that was just for me in a long time.” She turned to face Helena again, with a wry smile.

 

“Well. I don’t quite know what to say to that, Myka. Why don’t we try something entirely new to both of us, in that case? Perhaps sharing a new experience would be amusing?”

 

They decided on a visit to Madame Tussaud’s followed by a 3D movie. They enjoyed the waxworks, but Helena clearly didn’t have a clue who half of them were supposed to be. Truth be told, neither did Myka. They stuck to the historical areas after wandering around in confusion for a while. Myka thought to herself that Pete would love this place – they had a whole comic book section. (Myka didn’t recognise anyone or anything in it.) Helena thought it was fascinating and fanciful. 

 

They went to see a movie that afternoon – Avatar. Myka had been to the cinema before, of course, if rarely, but it was her first film in 3D. And Helena was clearly interested in the mechanics of making impossible things happen onscreen. They were both absolutely enthralled. It was so beautiful, and they were immersed in the beauty of the blue people and their planet. Myka cried at least three times – she tried to conceal it from Helena, but she’d caught the Victorian smiling slyly at her as she tried to surreptitiously wipe away tears from under the 3D glasses.

 

They had dinner at a little Italian restaurant near the cinema, and were chatting like they’d known each other for years. Myka impulsively took Helena’s hand in hers as they were leaving, leading her out of the restaurant. They were making their way to cross the street to where the TiMERcorp car was waiting when they heard someone yell at them from somewhere on their left. Myka couldn’t make out what the guy was saying at first – he had a thick South London accent. She finally made out that he was calling them ‘fucking disgusting’ and ‘bloody dykes’ and her personal favourite, ‘todger dodgers’.

 

She was standing in front of him, in his face, before she had thought it through.

 

“I’m sorry. Did I hear you right? Because it seems like you think it’s ok to call people names in the middle of the street for no damn reason.” He was a little shorter than Myka, this stellar example of masculinity, and he and his sneering companion shrank back as she confronted them.

 

“You know, what I do with my friend, or what anyone does completely consensually – that has _nothing_ to do with you. And the fact that you seem to feel the need to try and make other people feel small makes me think that you probably have some _size_ issues of your own.” She was an inch away from his face by this stage, almost snarling, and the idiot decided that this was the appropriate time to try and take her on because she’d insulted his manhood. He tried to grab Myka’s arm, and was suddenly on the pavement, his face ground into the cement, with his arm pulled up his back and her knee in his kidneys. His friend had backed away, hands held up in surrender.

 

“If you’re going to try and assault someone, _little man_ , why don’t you make sure it’s someone who can’t hit back next time.” She hissed that last in his ear, gave his arm one last painful twist, and stood up. Helena was standing where Myka had left her, mouth open in astonishment. Myka strode over to her and, entirely for the benefit of the idiots behind her, pulled Helena roughly against her and kissed her. Helena did not protest. The kiss started as a display for the idiots who had dared to insult them – a display that meant that she, Myka, could do whatever the hell she wanted – but it turned into something else almost immediately. Helena was pliant against her, and Helena’s hand were in her hair, and suddenly Myka couldn’t help it, she was pulling Helena’s slight body against her own firmly, and her tongue was in Helena’s mouth, then Helena’s tongue was in her mouth, tasting of the wine they’d had with dinner. Myka felt like she was on fire with need and want and longing. She broke the kiss with great difficulty and stood there looking into Helena’s eyes, almost panting. Helena was in much the same state – she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Myka rested her forehead against Helena’s and tried to steady her own breathing.

 

The TiMERcorp employees had left the car and were crossing the road to check on them both. The driver escorted them both back to the car and the other guy, who looked like he might be a bodybuilder, had backed the two assholes against the wall and was reading them the riot act for disturbing a couple on furlough. A small crowd had gathered to watch. They were, Myka observed, watching her and Helena more than the TiMERcorp guy and the two assholes. Maybe hoping for another show? Helena and Myka made their way somewhat unsteadily across the road and into the car.

 

The adrenaline was starting to leave Myka’s system, and she turned to find Helena watching her, dumbstruck.

 

“I’m really sorry, Helena. That asshole just got under my skin. I lost my temper a little, I think, and I just wanted to show him that he couldn’t intimidate us. I guess I got carried away.” She was rubbing the back of her neck nervously. And she was babbling. She knew it, and Helena knew it, judging from the sly smirk that was beginning to grow on her face.

 

She leaned across to whisper in Myka’s ear. “Don’t apologise, Myka. It was...delightful.” Her breath tickled Myka’s ear, and as Helena withdrew to fasten her seatbelt, Myka drew in a shaky breath. This woman was going to be the death of her, she knew it.  The driver pulled away into the traffic and whisked them back to their apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

Helena was fascinated by the waxworks, but absolutely enthralled by the movie that she and Myka watched together. The three dimensional images, the way the technology made it appear that things were floating around in the air around them – it was truly a thing of wonder. Helena resolved to research the methods they used to create the effect. She was already fascinated by the CGI that Myka had explained to her during the movie they’d watched the previous night. She was endlessly fascinated by the inventions and advances of this time - in any field, really. Although she had definite intentions for this world, she was still drawn to the ingenuity of humans and how they overcame problems and invented marvellous new ways to do things.

 

She enjoyed their dinner together very much, once again. Myka was intelligent and confident, the embodiment of all the possibilities of this time for women. She was also stunningly beautiful. Helena found herself flirting even when she didn’t mean to. The beautiful agent regaled her with tales of the Warehouse, of Claudia, the friend who was some sort of a technical whizz, and of the buffoonish Pete, who she nevertheless clearly loved.

 

Then they’d left the restaurant and an idiot Neanderthal and his brainless friend were shouting abuse at them because Myka had taken her hand. Helena felt rage well up in her heart at the sound. This planet – these people – would they ever change? Her mind began to traverse familiar paths of rage and grief – that is, until Myka confronted the little twerp. He tried to attack her, clearly unused to anyone answering back when he tried to intimidate them. Myka had his face against the pavement before Helena could blink, and then the TiMERcorp staff were there, taking care of things – and Myka, dear, beautiful Myka – was kissing Helena more thoroughly than she could ever remember being kissed, making her quite weak at the knees.

 

Helena suddenly realised what the women of her time meant when they said that a man had made them swoon. Helena had been the one causing the swooning back then, she was not too humble to say, but when Myka kissed her, it suddenly become quite clear what those ladies had meant. She could barely stand, and made her way back to the car on legs that no longer appeared to work properly. She recovered her equilibrium a tad when Myka tried to apologise to her, and got her own back by whispering in Myka’s ear that their kiss was delightful. She relished the effect her whispers had on the tall agent. It still took her the entire journey to completely calm her own pounding heart, however.

 

*

 

Myka was mortified. She had no regrets about confronting that little prick, but she couldn’t believe she’d kissed Helena like that. She’d meant it just to be a “Screw you, I can do what I want,” to that guy and his douchebag friend, and it had turned into more of a “Dear God, I want to screw you,” to Helena instead. She couldn’t even look at Helena when they arrived back in the apartment. She was _so_ embarrassed. And so incredibly turned on. She knew she was attracted to Helena, the woman was beautiful, but the way she’d responded when Myka kissed her, the hotness of it all – wow. Myka’s cheeks were flaming. She tried to pretend to be absorbed in whatever was on the television, but she just wanted to groan and hide.

 

*

 

Helena was amused at how embarrassed Myka was. The woman clearly didn’t do that sort of thing very often, and was now regretting her impulsiveness. But she was so very adorable when she blushed. Helena allowed herself to relive their kiss for a moment, the feel of Myka’s body against hers, the way she took charge...it was most pleasant to remember. Her eyes were drawn to Myka’s flaming cheeks, and she chuckled richly. Myka turned and asked her what was so funny.

 

“Not funny, darling. Adorable. You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

 

Myka flushed even more deeply. She began to stutter an apology again, but Helena held up a hand, forestalling any more explanations.

 

“Do not apologise, Myka. You are a very attractive woman, and I have no objections to being kissed by attractive women. And I _definitely_ enjoyed it. So stop berating yourself. Perhaps next time it will be I who sweeps you off your feet.” She smirked.

 

Myka looked at her breathlessly, and then grinned, shaking her head. “You are a terrible flirt, Ms Wells. Did you always flirt with the ladies, or is this a new thing for you?”

 

Helena simply raised an eyebrow. “I take exception to that statement, Agent Bering. I have it on very good authority that I am an _excellent_ flirt. And as to your question – I was very good friends with Oscar Wilde at one time. He and I were _very_ alike in our...proclivities. Does that answer your question?” She grinned and swept out of the room to find a bottle of wine and some glasses to help the aforementioned agent to relax.

 

*

 

Myka watched Helena leave the room, open-mouthed. _“Oscar frickin’ Wilde?!”_

This woman was an impossibility. She was from another century, a century that Myka adored, and she was friends with Oscar Wilde. And she was, if not entirely gay, at least a little gay for Myka. And Myka was, to her own surprise, entirely gay for HG Wells. Who knew? Myka’s cheeks were still flaming but she was suddenly thoughtful, as opposed to just completely mortified.

 

Helena returned to the room with two glasses of wine. Myka took one gratefully, and they sat in silence for a while. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss they’d shared, and she wanted to squirm in embarrassment. She’d practically mauled the woman in the middle of the street, and Helena was from the 19th Century, she couldn’t possibly be okay with being manhandled like that, could she? She said she was okay and that she’d enjoyed it but Myka was pretty sure that she was also very taken aback. Myka sighed and, when Helena turned to her with an eyebrow raised questioningly, smiled nervously and tried to pretend she was watching whatever was on television.

 

*

 

Helena watched Myka carefully. The agent was pretending to watch the inane rubbish that was apparently known as reality television, but she was clearly thinking about what had happened earlier, and she was just as clearly embarrassed and upset about it. Then she sighed and, when Helena turned to her, she pretended once again to be absorbed in the television. Helena G Wells was not the type to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were, and she was surprised already by how much she cared about this woman. She decided to take the bull by the horns. She turned the television off using the remote control – God, but there were so many new things to learn in this century.

 

Myka turned to protest that she was watching the television.

 

“You were not, you rotten liar. It was complete drivel. I’d wager you can’t even tell me what it was about. Am I right?”

 

Myka sighed. “You’re right. I have no idea.”

 

Helena scooted across the sofa and took Myka’s free hand – the other was holding her glass of wine.

 

“Myka. You don’t have to worry about kissing me. I am a grown woman. If I didn’t want you to kiss me, I would have stopped you.”

 

Myka looked at her, guilt written all over her features.

 

“But you’re not even from this time, Helena. I was all over you. I’m so sorry - I would never normally do something like that. I don’t know what came over me. I was practically mauling you in public.”

 

“Myka, I might never have kissed anyone as publically as that before, but I most certainly was not being mauled. And I did not protest. I am very well-versed in Kenpo, a Japanese martial art. If I had wanted you to stop, you would have stopped, believe me.”

 

Myka continued protesting. “I just grabbed you in the street and practically stuck my tongue down your throat, Helena, that’s not okay. Even here, in this time, that’s not okay.”

 

“For the love of God Myka, I told you that I liked it. What’s the bloody problem? I’m not an innocent, nor am I a virgin. Stop being so ridiculous!”

 

Myka tried to say something else, but Helena had had enough. She put her glass of wine on the table and pulled Myka to her and kissed her with great enthusiasm, using all the skill she’d learned from a succession of lovers. It was breathtaking. She – what was it Myka had said? – stuck her tongue down the woman’s throat, very effectively silencing any further protests.

 

*

 

Myka was startled when Helena turned off the television, and protested, but it was clear that Helena knew she’d been obsessing.  Helena tried to tell her that she had nothing to be worried about, but Myka was still mortified, and so worried that she’d practically assaulted Helena in the street.  She continued apologising, but it was suddenly hard to speak – it’s not as easy with two tongues in your mouth, it turns out. The next ten or so minutes proved to Myka beyond any shadow of a doubt that Helena Wells was not an innocent, not by a long chalk. If she thought she’d been turned on and red in the face after their kiss earlier, she was very swiftly disabused of that notion. That was nothing, compared to this. After a while, Helena slowly loosened her grip on the back of Myka’s neck, and withdrew her other roaming hand from its teasing exploration. She slowed the pace of their kiss, and after a few moments she released Myka entirely and drew back.

 

“Are you still embarrassed about taking advantage of the poor innocent Victorian lady?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

 

“Um...” was all that Myka could get out.

 

“Well then.” That was all she said before turning the television back on and picking up her wine glass to take a sip. 

 

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence, but it was a comfortable silence, once they’d both calmed down from the kissing. Myka was definitely no longer worried that she’d taken advantage of Helena. Once she’d caught her breath from that incredible kiss – no, it wasn’t a kiss, it was a makeout session of epic proportions – she was able to relax. They both watched and enjoyed a few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a show which Myka had always thought sounded ridiculous. It was, slightly, but it was a lot of fun and the humour was similar to Claudia’s. They retired to the bedroom eventually. Myka was surprised when Helena turned to her and asked if Myka minded if she stayed close until she fell asleep. Myka just nodded, seeing something – something dark and frightened – in Helena’s eyes. She held out her arm and Helena burrowed into her shoulder. Something told Myka she should leave the lamp on. They both slept peacefully and were still in one another’s arms when they woke.  

 

*

 

Helena found herself thoroughly breathless and quite overcome. She had meant to teach Myka a lesson, certainly, that she was no trembling virgin, but by God, she hadn’t expected this. The wave of need that hit her when she kissed Myka was the most intense she had ever experienced with any of her lovers. Myka did not hold back in the kiss, either. Helena got a little carried away, in truth, burying her hands in Myka’s hair and pulling, hard, while she bit down on Myka’s lower lip. That drew a gasp from the other woman, and Helena had to hold herself back from climbing into Myka’s lap and starting something she probably shouldn’t. Not yet, at any rate. She slowly pulled them both back from the brink, lessening the intensity of the kiss and removing one hand from where it was resting on the back of Myka’s neck, and the other from Myka’s abdomen, where she had been allowing it to roam a little too freely. Myka made a small noise of protest, but Helena didn’t relent. She knew when to move forward and when to move back, and now it was definitely time for the latter. She murmured something witty and withdrew to the other side of the sofa, nursing her glass of wine and studying Myka carefully when the agent wasn’t looking. They watched a television programme about vampires and teenagers that was very amusing, and that absorbed their attention for a while. But there was a child vampire in one of the episodes – a boy, but a child nonetheless, and it sent Helena’s mind back to where it had lived while she was Bronzed. Death and mayhem and the need to end all of it, end the misery and the chaos and start anew.

 

They went to bed and Helena was lost in her thoughts of Christina and the men who killed her, of MacPherson and his pettiness and his willingness to kill anyone who got in his way. She was burning with rage and anger and fear. Being Bronzed had twisted her irreparably. But then Myka moved slightly beside her, and Helena’s train of thought was quite derailed. Something of the madness shifted, lifted from her vision, and she turned to Myka, asked to be held. Myka said nothing, bless her, and just pulled Helena close. Myka stroked her hair and held her tightly, seemingly realising that speech was neither necessary nor welcome. She also left the light on, and Helena felt tears escape her once again at the woman’s thoughtfulness and intuition. Myka wiped them away wordlessly.

 

Helena did not enjoy feeling helpless. But when Myka held her, that wasn’t how she felt. She felt comforted and the pain and anguish lessened enough to allow her to drift off to sleep. She did not wake until after the sun had risen. It was the first night since she’d been awoken from the Bronze that she hadn’t had nightmares.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, something had shifted between them, Myka realised. Not only because of the kissing, but because of the comfort that Myka had given Helena. Something was growing between them, and it was present in the form of the looks they gave each other, and in the softness of their voices. They had a quiet breakfast and retired to the living area for the morning, lazing around on opposite ends of the sofa and reading. Helena kept them both well supplied with tea, but other than that, no words were exchanged. Just the occasional soft look or slightly shy smile.  It was all very comfortable, and not at all comfortable, in another way. Myka absorbed herself in a violent fantasy book that Claudia kept pestering her to read, but when the action faltered or her attention wandered she watched Helena, who was absorbed in something scientific and technical about 3D films and how they were made. Myka had helped her look it up on the internet and she was reading avidly on the laptop. Helena’s brows were furrowed and her mouth was puckered adorably as she read about the processes involved. Myka could understand it, barely, but it didn’t interest her. Helena was clearly fascinated by it, though, and something about seeing her so enthusiastic and excited was doing funny things to Myka’s insides.

 

*

 

Helena too was aware of the change in the atmosphere between them.  Something delicate was between them, something very fragile, since the night before. She was cautious about disturbing the peace between them. And she was frightened by how she felt. In all of her time in the Bronze sector, she had imagined many obstacles that she might come across in her attempt to end this world.  Feeling safe and content, oddly, did not number among them. And that was what disturbed her so about this woman, about this whole situation they found themselves in. Lust she was familiar with, even love or infatuation, she supposed, but this – this was something entirely different. Myka seemed to see the things she wanted to hide, and as she had last night, wordlessly comforted her and drove away the dark for a time. It was a wonderful feeling, and Helena hated it. She had not come here dreaming of vengeance just to be thwarted by whatever this was. But damn her if she didn’t _want_ to be thwarted by it. She sighed and Myka looked up from the other end of the sofa, smiling gently. Helena smiled back, and returned her eyes to the laptop screen. God, the woman was beautiful.

 

That evening they had arranged to go to the opera and watch Madama Butterly. Helena had picked it at random from the list of operas that had been provided. She simply wanted to see an opera that she hadn’t seen with Christina. She thought it might be too much for her to face something that she’d enjoyed with her daughter. She was surprised when Myka told her they didn’t need to wear formal evening clothes – yet another change in this century. She both liked and disliked that they didn’t bother dressing up here for the most part. She’d always found it tiresome, but conversely also enjoyed the sense of occasion it brought with it. Nonetheless, she decided to make an effort with her appearance for that evening. She disappeared off to the bathroom to prepare herself.

 

*

 

Myka had enjoyed a surprisingly comfortable and pleasant day. She and Helena had spent the day in near-complete silence, just enjoying each other’s proximity and the freedom to be quiet and read. Helena had abandoned the laptop after a while and picked up a new-ish novel that Myka hadn’t read about a dog in the night-time. Myka was absorbed in the book that Claudia had recommended, about a land full of evil kings and queens and dragons. (Oh my, she automatically finished in her head.) It was an incredible feeling to be able to sit with someone else in the same room and be completely comfortable reading in silence, never feeling the need to talk.

 

Helena excused herself and went to get ready for their excursion to the opera. Myka was half looking forward to and half dreading it. Some opera was beautiful, but she’d heard some pieces of music that were awful, screechy and discordant. She hoped that Madama Butterfly was in the former category.

 

When Helena returned from the bathroom, dressed for the evening, Myka did a double-take worthy of a crappy afternoon movie and then stared, her mouth open. Helena was dressed in a white shirt and formal waistcoat with a pocketwatch and fitted black trousers with knee high, heeled brown boots and a long overcoat that had a bustle – an actual bustle - on the back. Her long hair was straight and shiny and – how the hell did she get it to look like that? Did she bathe in the sacrificial blood of virgins? Myka’s mouth was still open. The woman was like some sort of steampunk goddess.

 

“Are you alright, Myka?” Helena asked, looking genuinely puzzled and concerned.

 

“Yeah, yeah...I’m fine, sorry.”

 

“You look very flushed. Are you not feeling well? We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

 

Myka rushed to head that one off – there was no way she was going to miss the opportunity to have this woman on her arm for the evening.

 

“No, I’m fine Helena, don’t worry. I was just a little startled. Let me change and then we can go.”

 

She went into the bedroom, leaving a confused Helena in her wake, and closed the door, leaning back against it, banging her head against the door softly in frustration.  Holy crap but the woman was attractive. Myka pulled herself together and tried to find something – anything – in the closet that would make her look half as good as the woman in the other room.

 

*

 

Helena was uncertain. Myka had looked at her in a way she thought she recognised as admiration or attraction, but there was a hint of something else in it too. Whatever it was, it was unsettling not to know what the other woman was thinking. So she stood in the living area and waited for Myka to emerge, fiddling with the chain on her pocketwatch as she paced.

 

And when she emerged – dear God, Helena forgot for a moment what it was that her lungs were supposed to do. She was wearing a dark green dress that stopped just above her knees and that was fitted closely to her trim form. Her hair was swept up in a chignon. She was wearing an elaborate necklace that matched her emerald dress, and her eyes were sparkling and brighter than Helena had ever seen them. Helena finally caught her breath and her feet carried her to Myka’s side. She bowed formally, taking Myka’s hand in hers and kissing it.

 

“You look exquisite, Myka Bering.”

 

Myka blushed and smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, HG Wells.”

 

Helena raised an eyebrow at that, and offered her arm to the beauty beside her gallantly.

 

“My lady?”

 

Myka giggled – honest to God _giggled_ – and took Helena’s arm. They were surprised to find that the TiMERcorp car had been replaced with a limousine. Myka asked their driver why. He simply said that it seemed like it was a special occasion and the company wanted to make sure they were well looked after. They sipped champagne in the car and then went to take their seats in the theatre.

 

The opera was beautiful, and tragic, and quite took Helena’s breath away. She loved it. But even though it wasn’t an opera she had watched with her daughter, she couldn’t help but see Christina’s face, how she was always enthralled as the orchestra began, or crying as the heroine declared her love, or laughing in delight at the comedic parts... Her little girl had been so happy, so beautiful. What those men had done to her – how could they not see the beauty and light they were extinguishing? Helena wrung her hands, oblivious to the tears that were streaming down her face. She felt soft hands pulling her to her feet and leading her away to a quiet space in the stairwell of the theatre. Myka’s arms enveloped her, pulled her in, and she let herself cry properly for her daughter for the first time since she’d awoken to this new world. Myka held her tightly, one hand reaching up to stroke Helena’s hair as she whispered soothing words in her ear.

 

“It’s ok, I’m here. I’m here.”

 

After a few moments, Helena’s sobs began to abate, and Myka pulled some tissues from her purse and handed them to her wordlessly. Helena wiped her face, and began to apologise for her behaviour. Myka held up one hand.

 

“No, Helena, you don’t need to apologise. I can’t imagine – I would rather _not_ imagine what you’ve been through. I’m just glad I’m here – that I can be here for you.”

 

Helena looked at her in mild surprise. She had lost her composure entirely, made an exhibition of herself – of them both - in public, and _still_ the woman comforted her.

 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Myka asked softly. Helena nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.

 

Myka took her hand and led her from the theatre, the TiMERcorp car appearing as mysteriously as ever. Myka spoke to the driver briefly and they pulled out into the traffic. Helena was too confused and sad to even ask where they were going. They arrived at a bar which was busy, but they nevertheless got a booth to themselves.

 

“What is this place, Myka?” Helena asked, puzzled.

 

“It’s a gay bar. I did some research last night and this bar seemed like the kind of place where we might feel more comfortable. Less chance of having assholes shout at us in the street.” Helena nodded, still a little startled by the casual profanity of people in this century.

 

“Will you be okay here for a second while I go get us a drink?” Helena nodded again, not knowing what to say. Honestly, she felt like a child. Myka was wonderfully understanding, but Helena shouldn’t be acting like this – like a fool. She was here to end this pain, not live it. But Myka made it so easy to let out. She was so comforting, so warm. Helena looked around at the bar, noting couples of all configurations – men with men, women with women, and men with women, sitting close together or embracing or even kissing. It was so very different from her time, and while she would never admit it, she found it disconcerting. People in her time were expected to remain reserved at all times. A kiss on the cheek would have been forward. People here were so much more free with their affection and touch. She felt herself staring a little at a couple of young men who were being rather enthusiastically affectionate nearby. This new century was a revelation, for so many reasons. Her musing was interrupted by Myka’s return with a tray of drinks.

 

“I got us some cocktails, and some Scotch, just in case we needed the big guns.” She smiled at Helena, her eyes twinkling in the low light of the bar.

 

“Well, I have no idea what the big guns are, but I believe I understand your meaning. And I think I shall definitely be needing some of that.” She laughed nervously.

“You know, it’s okay to be upset, Helena. I know things were different in your time, and that you were told to be reserved and stiff upper lip and all that crap, but that’s not how we do things here. Or not entirely, anyway.”

 

Myka looked Helena in the eye and took hold of one of her hands earnestly.

 

“You are allowed to hide your feelings if you want. I certainly do it a lot – more than is healthy, probably. But this grief, and everything else you’ve suffered – it’s okay with me if you’re not okay. It’s okay to let it out. You can talk to me. If you want to.”

 

Helena struggled to hold onto her composure. She had been told – admonished, really – from an early age that she was to be polite and charming and never show or tell anyone how she really felt. Anything else would be unseemly. And while she herself had never cared a jot for what others considered to be seemly or unseemly, something of that reserve would always be part of her. And as things stood, she did not need to be letting her feelings out or trying to be healthy – she had no intention of living for any longer than it took to enact her plans. But Myka kept making her think of what could be, of things like contentment and happiness, things she had not considered possible in her grief and madness. She smiled weakly at the woman next to her, this woman who was a bloody revelation.

 

“Thank you, Myka,” she managed. But that seemed to be enough for now. Myka squeezed her hand and then turned her attention to her drink.

 

Helena cleared her throat. “So what have you brought me, Myka Bering? What is this umbrella’d monstrosity?” She smiled, trying to change the subject to lighter matters and enjoy this time with Myka.

 

“It’s called a French Kiss.” Myka grinned at her mischievously as Helena’s eyebrow rose. “Yeah, I thought you might like that.” She laughed, a beautiful, full-throated sound that made Helena happy and lustful all at once.

 

“A French Kiss, you say? Are you trying to tell me something, Agent Bering?” Helena’s voice was low and seductive and teasing.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Myka said archly, sucking at her cocktail through a ridiculous sparkly straw. Helena chuckled. This was going to be an interesting evening. 


	7. Chapter 7

Myka was startled but not exactly surprised when she turned to see tears glistening on Helena’s cheeks. Helena had watched the first and second acts of the opera quietly, occasionally smiling, but as the story went on and the tragedy became more and more pronounced, her beautiful countenance darkened. She was apparently unaware that she was crying, quite absorbed in whatever she was thinking, twisting her hands over and over again. Myka’s heart was twisting along with every motion of those delicate hands. They had known each other for only a few days, but already Helena mattered  _so_  much to Myka. It was disturbing. Part of what made Myka good at what she did was her self-control. Her emotions did not control her. But with Helena it was very hard to tell herself that.

 

Myka took Helena’s hand gently and drew her from the crowded theatre. They stopped in the stairwell and she held Helena as she sobbed. Myka was crying a little too, though she managed to hide it from Helena. Seeing her like this tore at Myka’s heart.  She didn’t know what to say, so when Helena had calmed herself and dried her tears, she decided that perhaps a complete change of scenery might help. Well, that and alcohol. She was pleased and grateful when Helena’s natural curiosity and interest in this new time began to show through at the bar. She’d looked for gay bars the night before on the internet, thinking it might be nice for both of them to go out somewhere where they would be less likely to attract any negative attention. Myka didn’t identify as gay herself, had never really thought about it, but whatever she and Helena shared was strangely real and she wasn’t going to let a little thing like body parts get in the way of it. So a gay bar it was. At least if things got a little heated as they had the night before (and she was honest enough with herself to admit that she kind of hoped they did, because – wow...), they didn’t have to worry about people staring or calling them names. She shook her head as she remembered that small-minded idiot from the day before. Admittedly, todger dodgers was pretty damn funny (she’d had to look it up, and had discovered that todger was one of many slang words the English had for penis), but the sentiment behind it certainly wasn’t. She allowed herself a small smile as she considered that the little prick might think twice before doing something like that again. 

 

She left Helena considering the other clientele in the bar and went to the bar to pick up some drinks. The redheaded barmaid was  _very_  appreciative of Myka’s dress. She didn’t take her eyes out of Myka’s cleavage the whole time she was serving the drinks. Myka was impressed that the woman managed to make the cocktails at all without drenching everyone within a ten-foot radius. She raised an eyebrow at the woman when she was handing over the money, and the barmaid had the grace to look ashamed, at least. Myka could still feel her eyes on her rear end as she walked away, though. She smirked a little at the attention, and returned to the table.

 

The night improved exponentially from then on. The incident at the opera was behind them and they chatted and flirted and drank. Occasionally their knees touched and they played with each other’s fingers idly as they talked. Myka’s nerves thrilled at every little touch. Helena told her a little about Warehouse 12 and her old friend Caturanga, who had played chess with her and mentored her as an agent when many others believed that a woman should not be allowed to set foot in the Warehouse. Myka was struck once again by how extraordinary Helena was. She had grown up in a time when women were literally second-class citizens, and she had still managed to fight her way into a hugely important job and had become an author who had inspired millions and spawned a genre – an author who had partly shaped who Myka was. She found herself staring at Helena’s face, not listening to what she was saying, but watching the way her lips shaped the words, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about Caturanga, the beautiful laughter lines that told Myka that this was a woman had spent much more of her time laughing than frowning. She was beautiful, and when she was like this, it was like a light shone from behind those dark eyes, bathing Myka in its warmth. Myka was still very aware, however, that Helena had a lot of darkness in her, and she wasn’t sure how deep it went, and what it meant. She was still wary, but she was also very afraid that she was falling for Helena Wells. She wasn’t sure that she hadn’t already, in fact.

 

“Myka. Are you listening to me?” Helena’s voice was teasing. Myka lifted her eyes to meet Helena’s, blushing because she’d been staring instead of listening to what Helena was saying.

 

“You were staring. And I realised when I told you that Caturanga had decided to join a circus and start the first drag act of the 1800s that you were most definitely  _not_  listening. What were you thinking about?” She was grinning, obviously fairly well aware of where Myka’s mind was. She was gorgeous, Myka thought. Helena was leaning forward, her chin resting on her joined hands, and her elbows leaning on the table. Myka wanted nothing more right then than to kiss her and never stop. She tried hard to fight the blush that was threatening to light up the whole bar. Helena had known her only a few days and already knew exactly how to tease her into insensibility. It was extremely disconcerting. As was the fact that she’d just been staring at the woman like a fool.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I was just thinking about how amazing you are. You managed to work for the Warehouse in a time when you were expected to be married and the height of your ambition should have been running a household and popping out babies and that’s it. And your books – your writing. It inspired me so much and made me think – you’ve probably shaped a lot of the way my mind works. I guess I can’t believe that I’m sitting here talking to you. It’s kind of hard to wrap my brain around, you know?” She ducked her head, not wanting to meet Helena’s eyes. Claudia would have mocked her mercilessly if she could see her now – she was totally fangirling over HG Wells. 

 

Helena slid a little closer to Myka, and gently cupped her chin, lifting it slightly so that she had to meet Helena’s eyes. Helena was looking at her intently.

 

“Thank you, Myka. I can’t say that I believe I deserve your admiration, but I am pleased beyond measure that any of my work has reached this far into the future and that it has meant so much to you. And I want you to know that I admire you just as much. You are the epitome of everything I wished to be in my time – independent, well-educated, resourceful. It delights and inspires me that women such as you exist. More specifically, it delights me that  _you_  exist, Myka. You are a singularly wonderful person and you have come to mean more to me in these few days than I could ever have imagined.” She lifted Myka’s hand to her lips and kissed it, never moving her eyes from Myka’s.

 

Myka was trying extremely hard to stop her chin from wobbling. She couldn’t believe that Helena – that  _HG Wells_  was talking to her like this. She had tears in her eyes as Helena leaned forward and kissed her gently, tenderly. It was very different from the urgent kisses they had shared already – it was slow and sensual and it imparted something quite new. Myka knew that things had changed between them since the night before, and in the stairwell of the theatre. They weren’t just two women who were simply attracted to one another anymore. Myka ran her hand through Helena’s perfect hair, her other hand going to her waist, pulling her a little closer as they kissed slowly.  It was more intimate than anything that had passed between them so far. Myka didn’t want it to end. The look in Helena’s eye when she’d called Myka wonderful had warmed her to the core and she didn’t want to let go of that feeling. She didn’t want to take her hands off this woman. After only a handful of days, that was pretty damn terrifying, but she couldn’t make herself care. Not right then, with Helena kissing her the way she was, like she was precious.

 

Myka reluctantly parted from Helena after they’d been kissing for God knows how long. If they continued, things were going to go further than she was ready for. She had been aiming for fun when she decided to bring Helena here, so she smiled at Helena’s pout as she pulled away and asked her if she’d like to dance. Helena smiled at her shyly and they went to join the other revellers on the dance floor.

 

Myka couldn’t remember a time when she had as much fun as she had that night. They were both a little hesitant at first, and the music was a little much, if she was honest. It made her chest vibrate unpleasantly at first. But they were both drunk enough that they just went with it, dancing like idiots and laughing at each other’s efforts. After a while (and many more cocktails) they were dancing close to one another, and then pressed up against one another, their hands linked and foreheads almost touching as they gyrated to the music. Myka couldn’t honestly remember anything about the journey home. She really was very drunk. She just remembered Helena, close enough to be part of her own skin. Breathing each other in, just near to one another. Then they were in the apartment again. Myka was suddenly entirely sober, as she realised where things seemed to be heading. She was on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, and Helena was straddling her and kissing her neck. Their bodies were pressed together from neck to hip. Myka’s hands were in Helena’s hair. Myka groaned as Helena nipped her a little with her teeth. This was getting out of hand. But  _damn_  it felt good.

 

“Helena.” Another bite. Myka groaned again. Hands. Her hands were...

 

“ _Helena!_ ” She yelled this time.

 

“Bloody hell Myka! What’s wrong?!” She looked up, half shocked and half annoyed. Her eyes softened when she saw the panic in Myka’s eyes.

 

“Bugger. I’m sorry, Myka, was I - did you not want...?” Now it was her turn to panic.

 

“No, Helena, I did – I do want...I want you. God, I do. But this is moving a little too fast for me. I’m sorry.” And she really was. Helena looked guilty and devastated, all at once. She started to move away, but Myka grabbed her arms and pulled her close so that Helena was lying completely on top of her.

 

“Don’t go anywhere, Helena. I want you. You’re not being rejected. I would just prefer to be a little more sober my first time with you. I want it to be special. And I need a little time to get used to all this.” She kissed Helena’s slightly pouting mouth gently and wrapped her arms around Helena’s waist. “Don’t go running off on me. I like you right here.” She murmured against Helena’s lips.

 

They fell asleep like that for a while – a testament to how drunk they actually were - until Helena shifted and suddenly her hips were digging into Myka’s uncomfortably. Myka woke the sleeping author gently and urged her into the bathroom while Myka changed. They fell into bed and Myka wrapped Helena up in her arms again.

 

“I had a great time tonight.” She kissed Helena’s closed eyelids gently.

 

“As did I. Goodnight, Myka.”

 

“G’night...” She was asleep before her voice had even faded from the air.

 

*

 

Helena enjoyed the new drinks, these cocktails that Myka had brought her, along with their titillating and inventive names. They chatted about Helena’s time at Warehouse 12, but after a time it became clear to Helena that Myka was not listening. She was staring at Helena, eyes tracing lines between her eyes and lips and neck – and a little lower. Helena began to insert more and more outrageous statements into what she was saying, culminating in her description of Caturanga headlining a drag act in a touring circus. Myka just nodded, her eyes on Helena’s lips as she sipped her drink through yet another ridiculous straw.

 

When Myka told her what she’d been thinking, Helena was touched and humbled and guilty. For she was not the woman Myka was describing. Perhaps she had been, once. Before Christina was murdered. Because how does one ever get past the death – the violent death – of a child? How does one’s soul remain intact? But Myka’s admiration was pure. And she was good. So good. Her soul wasn’t like Helena’s, blackened by deeds she couldn’t excuse, but also couldn’t regret. And yet. And yet...Myka was looking at her as if she was the sun. Helena poured out her admiration in turn, first in words and then with her lips and tongue against the other woman’s mouth. She had never understood that this was possible – this flood of feeling, of longing, that filled her after only a few days in Myka’s company. It frightened her terribly, but she was powerless to resist its pull.

 

They danced, both with each other and with the half-dressed young men who populated this bar. Helena had never before felt as exhilarated as she did that night. That this level of freedom was allowed – encouraged, in fact – was something of which she’d never even dreamed. She laughed freely and danced like a wanton, pressed against Myka like a second skin. She was delirious and inebriated and her father would have died on the spot had he seen her. That thought made her feel even happier.

 

They reached the apartment – and truth be told, Helena couldn’t remember the journey at all, just a hazy fog with Myka at its centre. Myka’s skin, Myka’s scent. She hoped that they hadn’t given the TiMERcorp staff too much of a show. Although she expected that they’d seen worse, given their line of work. She was drunk on Myka, on the small sounds she was making, and her hand slid without thought to the hem of her dress and then up underneath it. Her mouth was on Myka’s neck. She couldn’t remember how they’d reached the sofa, how they’d come to be in this position, but she wasn’t complaining. But suddenly Myka  _was_  complaining, Myka was pulling back and asking Helena to stop. And the pain hit Helena like a punch to the solar plexus. She had been waiting for this, for Myka to see that she, Helena, was not good enough, could never be good enough to live up to the admiration Myka had for her...her mind was almost gibbering out its fear as it had for so long while she was bronzed. But Myka soothed it away with her words and her touch and her reassurances, kissed it away with her beautiful mouth. The madness fled and Helena slept for a time, slumped entirely over Myka’s body, rousing only briefly to change and tumble into bed and into Myka’s waiting arms. She slumbered peacefully.

 

The next morning was the second that she had awoken after dawn. They’d slept almost until noon, in fact, and Myka was still pressed against her, their arms and legs entwined. Myka was breathing slowly into Helena’s hair, and Helena’s face was against Myka’s neck.

 

“Helena?” She asked drowsily. “You’re tickling me.” She was pouting a little, but Helena thought that if Myka had a headache half as bad as her own, the pouting was quite justified. And quite beautiful.

 

“Good morning, love.” Helena said it without thought, and then cursed herself silently. That was not a word she wished to bandy about when this woman was around. It was already far too close to being true.

 

Myka surprised her by moving her head down to kiss Helena softly.

 

“I must really like you, Helena. You haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.” She was smiling, her eyes half closed against the light that was streaming in around the curtains.

 

“I am rather likeable, or so I’ve been told.” She kissed Myka this time. She had never, to her knowledge, awoken in bed with a lover and exchanged kisses like this. Her time with her lovers, men and women, had always been short and limited, because it was somehow illicit or not allowed. It was yet another new freedom for her, and she took full advantage. Morning breath or not, Myka was stunning in the midday light, her eyes half closed and her hair wild. They kissed softly, slowly, for what felt like hours, but it was still over too soon. Helena was rapidly becoming addicted to kissing Myka Bering.

 

Myka turned onto her back, groaning. 

 

“I have the worst headache. What possessed us to drink so much last night?” She threw her hands up to the heavens dramatically. Helena chuckled.

 

“I think it might have been my fault, Myka. Had we stayed at the opera, we might have finished the evening in a more...dignified fashion.”

 

“Don’t be silly, Helena. You were upset. I hope the rest of the evening was a little more enjoyable for you.”

 

Helena smirked. “I’ll say.”

 

Myka blushed.

 

“I think I need a bit of a pick-me-up. What do you think about searching out a full English breakfast and a cup of tea? I believe it’s the traditional cure for a hangover in these parts.”

 

“I think that sounds wonderful. Anything to get rid of this headache!” They smiled at one another for a long moment, and Helena couldn’t resist tracing her finger from Myka’s jaw to the crinkled corner of her eye. Which led to more kisses, until finally Myka pulled away with a groan and sent Helena off to the bathroom sternly.

 

They showered quickly and their trusty driver took them to a nearby greasy spoon, as he referred to it, which served the required fare. They stuffed themselves silly, and Myka warned Helena never to tell anyone of this.

 

“Pete would have a field day if he knew I’d eaten this crap!”

 

Helena mock-frowned at her. “That  _crap_  is the traditional food of my people, Myka Bering. Hold your tongue.”

 

“I love it when you talk all English at me.” Myka grinned at the glare Helena was giving her.

 

“So, do you want to do anything today?” Predictably, it was Myka who wanted to plan their day. She had a compulsion, it appeared, to organise.

 

“Perhaps a walk?” Helena suggested. Myka nodded.

 

The driver took them to a nearby park and they walked for a while, arm-in-arm, just enjoying the crispness in the air. They sat on a bench and a thought occurred to Helena, suddenly.

 

“Do your superiors know who you are with? You’ve never mentioned it.”

 

Myka stared off into space for a moment, thinking.

 

“I have no idea, Helena. I’ve only had that note from Pete that I showed you. I assumed that the TiMER people would have told Pete, but I honestly don’t know. He didn’t mention you by name in the note. God, you don’t think he meant you when he said ‘You-know-who?’ I assumed he was talking about MacPherson. Dammit.” She put her head in her hands, her mind clearly racing to the worst case scenario.

 

“Calm down, Myka. There’s bugger all you or I can do about it at the moment. Are you allowed to contact them while you’re on furlough?” She no longer stumbled over the word.

 

“I don’t think so. I don’t know. Why? What would I even say?” Myka turned to her, eyes appealing for help.

 

“Well, I might be able to give you some information that would help if they are searching for MacPherson.”

 

“What? You know where he is?” Myka’s mouth was open in indignation.

 

“No, not necessarily. I know where he was headed when he left me, which is not the same thing. And if I may, I’d like to remind you that I didn’t even know why I was here at first. I thought I was heading back to be Bronzed again, so I had no real interest in helping you, I’m afraid. And for the last few days, I’ve been a little preoccupied with you.”

 

Myka flushed again, but her mouth was still held in a grim line.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this earlier. He could have hurt my friends, Helena. He could have killed someone. He might have, for all we know.”

 

“I’m sorry. It was not my intention to hide it from you. But you haven’t asked me about it either, Myka. So perhaps it’s not entirely my fault?”

 

Myka chewed her lip, considering that. Then she nodded, curtly.

 

“Myka. I do not wish to be at odds with you. I have come to care about you much more than you know, even in just a few days. Please don’t be angry with me.”

 

_“Not yet,”_   _she silently added._

 

“You’re right, Helena. You had no reason to trust me. But I would very much like it if you would now, please. Tell me where you think he might be and I’ll let Artie know. Who knows, it might win you some trust with the Warehouse.”

 

“Of course.” Helena told her of her plan to enter the Escher vault, about the Imperceptor vest and the antimatter that MacPherson had planned to retrieve from somewhere in Switzerland.

 

“CERN?”

 

“Yes, that was it. I didn’t recognise the name.”

 

“And what was it you wanted from the vault?” Myka asked her. Her tone was deceptively soft but her eyes were sharp.

 

“My belongings. That’s all. The woman who let me out told me that they use the vault to store the belongings of Bronzed individuals. My locket is in there. It carries the only picture of Christina that I possess, along with a lock of her hair. You can ask your Artie to confirm it if you wish. I told MacPherson that I would help him if he helped me get into the vault. But in truth I had no intention of doing so.” And she didn’t. That much was the truth.

 

Myka blanched.

 

“Damn. I’m sorry, Helena. I never seem to be able to stop expecting the worst from people.” She put her head in her hands again, slumping forward.

 

Then something occurred to her. “What woman?”

 

“The woman who let me out of the Bronze sector. She took me to the side entrance and James took me away from there.”

 

“I guess you actually have met Claudia, then.” Myka looked extremely sad, suddenly.

 

“No, I don’t believe I have. James didn’t call her Claudia. It was something else. Leah, perhaps?”

 

Myka’s head snapped up.

 

“Leena?!”

 

“Yes, that was it. She let me out, and told James to keep me somewhere dark for a day to allow my eyes to adjust. She was using Harriet Tubman’s thimble – at first she looked like a younger girl with red hair, and then she took it off. She gave it to James.”

 

Myka was suddenly energised, and seemingly very annoyed – at both Helena and herself.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this earlier. I could have told Artie. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have understood about the Escher vault, Helena. You could have trusted me.” Her lips were in a thin line, her arms folded. She was not looking at Helena.

 

Helena sighed. She didn’t know what to say. She had been honest, at least to a point. She wanted her locket more than anything, but there was also Lizzie Borden’s compact in the vault. She didn’t have a specific plan for it, but it had been on her when she’d been taken before the Regents, and she’d thought, once she was un-Bronzed, that it might be useful as a distraction at a later date. So Myka wasn’t entirely wrong. Helena was conflicted. For a moment she even considered being totally honest with Myka and letting them put her back in the Bronze sector. She didn’t want to hurt the agent about whom she’d come to care so deeply. That thought made her stop in her tracks. She could not be Bronzed again, not for the sake of one woman, no matter how wonderful. Helena looked away, blinking back tears. What in the world was she doing? She’d been so sure, so certain of her plans, cultivated carefully over a hundred years in darkness and madness. And now because of one woman she was losing her nerve. And the truth was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to go through with any of it any more. If Myka’s boss went into the Escher vault he would likely hide her possessions elsewhere now. Even if he gave her the locket, there was no way he would give her the compact. And he would have questions about where it had come from. She could answer them easily and she was technically guiltless – she hadn’t deliberately decided to be picked up by the Regents directly after retrieving a curiosity – that had been their decision. But she was  _not_  guiltless, and while she had steeled herself for the necessity of deceiving the agents she met if she was to succeed in her plan, she was no longer sure she could do so in the face of how she felt about Myka. 

 

Luckily, Myka mistook her guilt and sadness for something else. She thought Helena was upset that Myka didn’t trust her – where the truth was that Myka shouldn’t be trusting her at all. Helena could have screamed. Especially when Myka apologised to her – to her, who wanted to end the bloody world, and Myka with it. Her heart was twisting in her chest and she felt sick. The guilt and pain and hatred and rage fed on itself, filling her with a roiling cloud of madness.

 

“You know, I am really sorry for doubting you about the vault, Helena. I should have trusted you.”

 

Helena turned to her, and in that moment she was mad, truly. Insane. Myka recoiled at whatever she saw in Helena’s eyes.

 

Helena turned away.

 

“Perhaps we should return to the apartment. You can contact your Arthur and tell him what you need to.” She walked back towards the car without looking back. She didn’t know what she would do if Myka touched her. She didn’t trust herself.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angst, and some Artie.

The car journey home was silent. Myka looked like she wanted to speak once or twice, her hand reaching out tentatively. Helena didn’t look at her, but just shook her head and looked out the window blindly. She walked ahead again when they got out of the car, leaving Myka to arrange her telephone call to the Warehouse. Once in the apartment, Helena locked herself in the bathroom and took a long shower, after which she took her book with her into the bedroom. She closed the door and was intensely relieved when she heard Myka enter the apartment but there was no knock at the door, no attempt to talk to her. She knew that Myka was probably worried and upset that she’d hurt Helena’s feelings, but she couldn’t comfort Myka and hold back the madness at the same time. She sat in the darkened room for what felt like hours. Her book was open but she didn’t read a word.

 

Her mind returned to the state of perpetual motion it had occupied when she was in the Bronze sector. Considering, turning options over and over in her mind. She had actually considered asking Myka to return her to the Bronze sector. To the hell she had lived in for over a hundred years, to a nightmare without end. She had been ready to enact her plans, and now that nothing stood in her way - nothing but Myka Bering, that was - she was paralysed. She thought to herself that she should simply get up; get up and walk out. Return to her plans and rework them, try to get round the Warehouse’s defences without involving Myka. But her traitorous body, her traitorous heart, would not allow it. So she remained, suspended in time just as much as she had been when she was Bronzed.

 

Dinner came and Myka knocked timidly on the door to ask if she wanted any. Helena simply shook her head and smiled weakly. Myka stood there uncertainly for a moment, and then withdrew when Helena didn’t say anything else.

 

It was beginning to get dark when Helena had gathered herself enough to emerge from the bedroom and face Myka again.

 

Myka was sitting on a single chair in the living area, her legs drawn up and a blanket wrapped around her. She looked small and forlorn. Helena felt even guiltier at subjecting Myka to an afternoon of worry just because she was unable to maintain the appearance of sanity for long enough to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. They stared at one another for a moment, and suddenly both began speaking at once.

 

“Myka, I’m so sorry. None of this is your...”

“Helena, I wish I could take it back. I hurt you...”

 

They stopped speaking, and Myka threw herself out of the chair and into Helena’s arms. They both held on tightly, and when Helena realised that Myka was sobbing, her heart fractured within her, because she was the cause of this pain.

 

“Ssh. It’s alright, love. It’s alright. I’m sorry.” Helena rubbed Myka’s back as she whispered to her, holding her tightly. After a while Myka’s sobs abated, and Helena led her to the sofa, grabbing the discarded blanket on the way, and settled them both down with the blanket around them. She held Myka close, pulling her long legs up into her own lap. Helena rubbed small circles on Myka’s back and murmured comfort into her hair.

 

“Jesus, Helena. What _is_ this between us?” Helena could only shrug helplessly. “I didn’t even cry like this when Sam died. I mean, I cried, sure, but I didn’t lose it like that. What the hell is it?”

 

“I don’t know, but it terrifies me.” Helena said truthfully.

 

“Me too.”  Myka’s voice was small and subdued. She lifted her head a little and raised a hand to trace Helena’s cheek.

 

“I am sorry, you know. I should have trusted you.”

 

Helena sighed wearily. “No, Myka, you shouldn’t. You don’t even know me. You have no reason to trust me. Your friends are important to you, and MacPherson could have done anything to them. I should have told you where he was.” She kept her eyes averted. She didn’t want Myka to see the guilt in her eyes.

 

Myka sniffled a little into a tissue she’d pulled from a pocket.

 

“So, I shouldn’t trust you, is what you’re saying? Care to share why?” Her tone was light, but she was frowning slightly.

 

“I’m saying that you don’t know me. That we’ve only just met. I have no right to be upset if you don’t trust me, when I’ve given you no reason to do so. I should have told you about James.”

 

“Yes, you should have. But there’s no harm done – not yet, anyway. He got your antimatter from Claudia’s brother at CERN by using Harriet Tubman’s thimble and impersonating a professor there. But no-one was hurt, and for now there’s no sign of him.”

 

Helena nodded. “He did mention that he knew someone there but he didn’t mention your Claudia. I’m glad he didn’t hurt anyone. The man doesn’t care who he hurts.”

 

“And you do?” There was no malice in the question.

 

“Yes, I do. I have had to hurt people in my time – in the course of my work as a Warehouse agent, as I’m sure you have.” Myka nodded. “But the only time I deliberately hurt anyone was when I killed the men who murdered my daughter. And perhaps it makes me a monster, Myka, but I don’t regret it. I try, but I can’t. It is the greatest evil I have ever done. I was twisted and consumed with grief and rage.”

 

“And now? Because I saw you back there in the park, Helena. You looked like you could have killed me.”

 

Helena ran her free hand through her hair and shivered a little. She looked at Myka and decided that it was best to be honest. She was so conflicted that she didn’t see what harm it could do, now. She had no idea if she could go through with her plans anymore.

 

“I wish I could say that I’m sure I would never hurt you, Myka. But the truth is that I am not entirely in my right mind. I was so broken when I went into the Bronze sector, and then I was there for over a century trapped with only my own thoughts for company. I think we can probably say that I have unique problems in that regard. But if I hurt you, it would be the last thing I do, I assure you.” She was sure of that. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she hurt this beautiful woman who had been so compassionate.

 

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I say that’s not entirely reassuring, Helena.” Myka drew back a little so that she could look at Helena properly.

 

“It’s not. I am no more reassured than you are,” she said simply.

 

Myka leaned over a little and gave Helena a soft kiss.

 

“Why...why did you do that?” Her voice was shaking.

 

“Because you were honest. Honesty I can handle. Even if it means that you’re not well, that we have a problem to solve together. That’s better than waiting to see what goes wrong because you haven’t told me everything.” Myka’s gaze was open and sincere, her eyes soft in the low light.

 

Helena stared at her.

 

“Do you have any idea, Myka, how incredible you are? I have just told you that I am not sure whether I might hurt you, and your response is to kiss me. I’m not sure I am not still in the Bronze sector. Did I dream you up?”

 

Myka smiled gently.

 

“I’m not a dream, Helena. I am just a person who wants you to be honest with me. If you want to be in this with me, then we can’t lie to one another – not about what matters, anyway. I’m still not sure what I really think about the TiMER, but there is something between us, something I can’t even comprehend, and I want to know what it is. Do you?”

 

Helena nodded. “I do. But there are things I’m not ready to talk about, not yet, anyway. Do you trust me enough to let me wait until I’m ready?” Until she’d decided whether to do what she’d planned or not, she meant.

 

“I think I do. I shouldn’t, probably, but I do.” Myka leaned over to kiss her again. The kiss started out gently, but they had spent all day at odds, and their hurt and anger and relief spilled out into their touch, their movements. Myka swung one long leg over Helena’s knees to straddle her, one arm sliding around Helena’s neck, into her hair, to pull her close. Helena’s hands were under Myka’s shirt, grasping the skin of her lower back tightly, nails digging in. Their breathing came in ragged gasps, but when Myka’s hand moved under Helena’s shirt to her breast, she gently grasped Myka’s wrist and moved her hand away.

 

“Not now, love. Not yet,” she murmured softly against Myka’s skin. Myka was flushed and frustrated, biting her lip, but she nodded and settled herself back against the arm of the sofa, her legs slung over Helena’s. Helena took her hand and entwined their fingers.

 

They sat in silence for a while. Helena put her head back and closed her eyes, one hand joined with Myka’s, and the other tracing patterns on Myka’s leg just above her knee.

 

Myka broke the silence after a while.

 

“What you said – that it would be the last thing you would do, if you hurt me – did you mean that?"

 

“Yes, I did.” She said it simply, but firmly.

 

Myka lifted Helena’s chin up so they were meeting one another’s eyes.

 

“I’m so sorry that you’re in so much pain, Helena.”

 

Helena’s eyes filled with tears. She looked away. She felt like Myka could look right through her, could see all of those things she was trying to hide. Myka, mercifully, did not persist in talking about that particular subject.

 

They fell silent again.

 

“What do you know about psychology?” Myka asked, from nowhere.

 

Helena frowned.

 

“A little. I read a lot after Christina died. I never slept so I had to fill the hours somehow. I read some Freud, although I didn’t think much of his theories. Hysteria indeed!” she scoffed. “Psychoanalysis has always interested me, however. I suppose I need not wonder why you are asking me this?”

 

Myka frowned a little, pursing her lips.

 

“I think we both know why I’m asking, Helena. But I would like you to do some reading for me, if you would. Psychiatry and the treatment of mental illnesses have changed a great deal since your time. Women are no considered hysterical and deranged if they admit to having feelings. And the medication that has been developed to treat depression is much more successful these days, or so I understand. I wouldn’t blame you if you were resistant to the idea, not when your only example is places like Bethlem. But things have changed. So read about it, and think about it, please.” Her eyes met Helena’s, and there was a plea in them. _“Do this for me.”_

 

Helena nodded, a little sharply. She did not appreciate the implications of what Myka was saying, but she could not deny them, either. For she _was_ battling madness. She wanted so badly to end everything, to reduce the human race and its works to so much meat and rubble and begin anew. But she also wanted something much less grandiose. She wanted peace. And she thought she had perhaps already found that, here. In green eyes and soft touches and the scent of her – of Myka. She closed her eyes again, breathing slowly to maintain her control.

 

They went to bed shortly after, a fragile truce between them. And when Myka turned to press her face into Helena’s neck and wind her fingers into Helena’s hair, Helena did not object, but simply wrapped her arm around Myka’s waist to pull her body against her own snugly. She pressed her lips to Myka’s hair and slept.

 

*

 

The day had held so much promise, Myka thought, when they woke up entwined after a night of fun and perhaps a little too much intimacy. But it had all turned to shit. Helena’s admission that she might know where MacPherson was, even after Myka had told her that the evil bastard had already killed Artie once – that had taken the wind out of her sails. And finding out that it was Leena, and not Claudia, who was their traitor? Then there was the look on Helena’s face – God, Myka had, for a moment, wondered if that was the last thing she would ever see. So much rage, barely constrained, and a hint of something _other_ , something Myka didn’t care to think about too much. To call it madness was too simplistic. It was more a hint of a soul fighting madness, and at that moment it was losing.

 

Her mind was racing the whole way back to the TiMERcorp apartments, and she tried to speak to Helena a few times, but she didn’t really know what to say. She had known that there were depths to Helena that she knew nothing of. But whatever was going on in there, it was just as dangerous as Myka had imagined Helena to be when she had first met her. The bruise on Myka’s face had faded somewhat but it was still a visible reminder of what Helena was capable of only when startled. If she acted on that roiling rage – Myka didn’t know if there was anything she _wouldn’t_ do.

 

The secret service agent in Myka would have taken Helena to South Dakota in chains right there and then. The Myka-before-Helena would have. Myka knew that she should take her somewhere where she couldn’t hurt anyone. But the idea of Helena in chains – confined again – made her shiver and ache. She couldn’t allow it. To do so could break Helena beyond repair, if she wasn’t already.

 

She spoke to the driver about making her phone call, and he sent her to the building manager, who said that it wasn’t really encouraged, but if she needed to talk to someone at work about an emergency, then she could use his office. She shooed him out and called the Warehouse.

 

Pete answered, and started asking questions that she most certainly did not want to answer. The word ‘scissoring’ came up and she gave him the special tone she reserved for when he’d really stepped over the line.

 

“Peter Lattimer. You stop that right now. I need to speak to Artie, okay? Is he there?”

 

“Yeah, he’s just coming up the stairs. Hold on and I’ll get him. And next time, missy, I want details, okay?” The man was such a child.  

 

There were a lot of banging noises and a harrumph that was so loud it almost made Myka drop the phone, but then Artie was there, curt as ever.

 

“Myka. What is it? Aren’t you supposed to be on furlough?”

 

“Yes, Artie, I am. But I need to talk to you about it.”

 

“About your furlough? Why would I need to know anything about that?” Myka could imagine him waving his arms around as he demonstrated just how little he needed to know about her personal life.

 

“Not about the furlough, Artie. About who I’m on furlough with.”

 

“Again, why would I need to know? I assume you’re making her your One, but that can be arranged when you come back. You are coming back, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, I’m coming back, Artie. But I need to tell you. My TiMER, when it went off. My match is Helena. Helena George Wells.”

 

She could picture him mouthing the words, and then there was a predictable yell – so predictable, in fact, that she had already moved the phone away from her ear.

 

“HG WELLS?!! Your match is HG WELLS!!!” There was more unintelligible yelling and the unmistakeable sound of Artie stomping around (waving his arms, more than likely). She didn’t say anything, just let him do his thing until he was ready to talk sensibly. Eventually he came back on the line, and his tone was business-like.

 

“Okay, Agent Bering. Tell me everything.”

 

And she did. He was, thankfully, quiet and receptive as she told him the details, about Helena’s state of mind concerning the Warehouse and her fear of being Bronzed again, her not knowing what the TiMER was for, and finally, where MacPherson was going and what his plan was. And about Leena. Artie was stunned at that last detail, and he was not pleased that Helena had kept the information to herself for so long. However, he grudgingly accepted Myka’s explanation. He said he would speak to Mrs Frederic about why HG Wells had been Bronzed, to see if it matched up with Helena’s explanation, and that he would check for a list of Helena’s possessions to see if the locket was among them. And he promised that he and Mrs Frederic would get to the bottom of why Leena would do anything to help MacPherson, and would do their best to get in touch with Claudia and get her home where she belonged.

 

“Will you give her back her locket, Artie?” It was important to Myka that Helena was able to have her locket as a reminder of Christina. The look on her face when she talked about it was pure grief and longing. She didn’t think Helena could survive without it.

 

“I will consult with Mrs Frederic and we will test it thoroughly before any decisions are made. But for now, don’t worry about that. I will deal with things here, and you go back to your furlough. I know this probably goes without saying, Myka, but watch her. People don’t get Bronzed for no reason. She’s dangerous, perhaps not to you, but to someone, or the Regents wouldn’t have agreed to her request – if that is how it happened.”

 

They agreed to talk again the following day. Artie said he would try to speak to Mrs Frederic in the meantime. He cautioned her several more times before she went, and each time he did, her mind went back to the park bench, and how feral Helena had looked. She shivered.

 

When she returned to the apartment, the first thing she saw was the closed bedroom door. She sighed, but decided not to push things yet. Helena was obviously struggling with a weight of darkness, the kind of pain and grief and rage that had only stagnated during her tenure in the Bronze sector. Myka didn’t know how to help her. She wasn’t sure anyone would be able to. She stared at nothing, worrying and fearing that Helena was too far gone. And that she herself might have broken the fragile thing that existed between them by not trusting Helena. She didn’t know how long she sat in silence until there was a knock at the door that could only be dinner. She opened the door with a quick smile and rolled the trolley in without speaking to the member of staff, a young woman this time.

 

She squared her shoulders and opened the bedroom door, but Helena wouldn’t even look at her, just shook her head, wearing a weary grimace that might have been meant to be a smile. Myka retreated and went to the table, picking at the food. She eventually gave up on eating and left the trolley outside the door, but she kept the wine. She drank a full glass, standing by the table and looking out over the city, her eyes going to the closed door over and over. She finally sighed and sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the living area, wrapping herself in a blanket. She stared at the bookshelf opposite with unseeing eyes, turning things over and over in her mind. Helena kissing her, Helena telling her she was wonderful – Helena looking at her with murder in her eyes. She was so scared of how strong her feelings for Helena were already, and so scared that Helena was going to hurt her.

 

A soft noise alerted her that Helena had entered the room. She was in the same clothes she’d worn earlier, dark jeans and a simple white shirt. She was barefoot and her arms were wrapped around her abdomen, as if she was holding something in. Perhaps she was. Myka tried to speak at the same time as Helena did, but before she could finish she was on her feet and slamming into Helena, wrapping her arms around her and sobbing, harder than she could ever remember doing in her life. Myka never lost control like this, and she didn’t understand it, not even a bit. Helena had undone all of the work she’d spent a lifetime on, building up and buttressing her control against all comers. She pressed herself against Helena and gave in to it, because there was no fighting it. She couldn’t stop.

 

Helena held her close much the way Myka had done for her at the theatre, murmuring soothing nonsense and rubbing her back and stroking her hair. After a while Myka calmed, and Helena led her to the couch and sat down with Myka almost in her lap, holding her close like she would a crying child. Myka wasn’t sure how to handle these feelings, how to deal with it all. For while she was embarrassed by her lack of control, her pervading feeling was of comfort and safety – something she couldn’t say with any certainty she’d ever felt before. Her home with Warren and Jean Bering had been comfortable and safe physically, but emotionally it was a battleground. And Myka was never the victor. She had never felt this sense of security before with anyone, not even with Pete, who was her best friend. She would never be able to show him this kind of vulnerability and stay comfortable with him afterwards. How could it be this easy with someone she’d only just met?

 

Their conversation was at odds with their physical comfort with one another. They talked about how frightened they both were of the feelings that were growing between them, and about MacPherson’s plans, and finally about Helena and the way she had reacted in the park. It was uncomfortable and stressful and Myka was worried and upset and scared. Scared of Helena, scared _for_ Helena, and scared of all of this. And still they stayed in each other’s arms, hands playing with each other’s fingers or hair or stroking along knuckles.  It was perhaps not a surprise then that things turned physical rather quickly when they had partially resolved things. This time it was Helena’s turn to stop Myka, to stop what would have been an act of desperation rather than of affection or caring or even love. But there was less awkwardness between them and when Helena agreed to read about psychiatry and treatments for mental illness, Myka relaxed. They went to bed and Myka clung to Helena. She was scared to let go. Helena was so precious to her, already, and yet she was so wary of her. Artie’s words rang in her head. How could she be honest with Helena and give this relationship a real try when she was so afraid of what the Bronze had done to her, and what she in turn might do to Myka? She drifted off after a while, but woke in the middle of the night with a start, having dreamt of Helena’s eyes as they were when she’d turned to her in the park. She shivered and stared at the sleeping woman next to her, her skin like marble in the darkness of the room. She was small and curled into a ball, Myka pressed against her back. Myka wondered what was going on in the woman’s head. She was sick, and Myka knew that. But how sick, and how much control did she have? Myka chewed her lip in frustration. She was terrified that this relationship that the TiMER had thrust upon them might be the thing that tipped Helena over the edge. And if that happened, Myka was very much afraid that she might go over with her. It took her a long time to get back to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day dawned and it was raining and horrible outside – not unusual for London, but disappointing to Helena because she was feeling rather claustrophobic after the events of the previous day. She had thought that they could go out somewhere and sit in the sunshine, so that she could be reminded that she was alive, was part of the world once again. Myka seemed to recognise her mood and went off searching through the information provided by TiMERcorp before even showering.

 

Helena went to find her after she’d showered and dressed. Myka was sitting cross-legged on the centre of the bed surrounded by leaflets for various attractions and concentrating fiercely on the laptop in front of her. She looked up when Helena entered the room.

 

“Hey,” she said smiling, but then her brows furrowed again as she looked something else up on the laptop.

 

“What are you doing, Myka?” Helena asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“I’m trying to find something for us to do. I don’t want you to get cabin fever.”

 

“Cabin fever?” Helena repeated, slowly.

 

“Yeah. Claustrophobic, feeling like you’re stuck inside because of the weather. Although I guess you’re probably used to the weather here, I doubt it’s changed much in the last century or so.” Then she winced, probably worrying that she’d reminded Helena of her time in the bronze sector.

 

Helena went to the bed and moved a few leaflets to the side before sitting next to Myka.

 

“You don’t need to do this, you know. I don’t particularly want to be indoors today, but with you here it will be tolerable. More than tolerable. You don’t need to worry so much.”

 

Myka raised an eyebrow sceptically.

 

“I would rather we did something that we enjoy than sitting in here stagnating and worrying about things. Wouldn’t you?”

 

Helena shrugged. “I don’t think that we will be stagnating, necessarily. I enjoy your company, Myka. I will admit that I would prefer to be outside today, as I do feel rather confined, but I don’t want you to worry yourself to this degree. I’m sure we can agree on something acceptable without you having to employ your encyclopaedic brain in an anxious search for things to keep me occupied.” She rubbed one hand up and down Myka’s upper arm, trying to reassure her through touch that things were okay.

 

“What do you suggest?” Myka said simply.

 

“Well, what if we were to watch some of these movies you keep talking about – the Harry Potter series? We could ask for some snack food, as you call it, from our hosts, and enjoy the quiet. I think some time spent not thinking might benefit us both. And perhaps later if we feel like it, we could venture out for a while for dinner and perhaps a drink? I know I could do with one or two.” Helena smiled, trying for reassuring. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded or not.

 

Myka sighed in relief, her eyes closed.

 

“That sounds perfect, Helena.”

 

“Well then, let’s do that, shall we?”

 

Myka went to shower and dress and Helena called to ask for some breakfast and a selection of snack food from reception. She was assured that the food would be there shortly. Helena tidied up the leaflets and put the laptop back on its place in the dining area, and smiled a little at the image of Myka studiously looking for things to keep her occupied. She sank down on the bed, lying back for a moment to contemplate the wonder of the woman the universe had seemingly dropped in her lap. She was so thoughtful, so caring, and so beautiful. Helena wished she’d met her before she’d been Bronzed. For Myka Bering, perhaps she could have pulled herself back from the brink and avoided the incident that had killed Wolly. But perhaps it wouldn’t have made any difference. For here she was, considering an evil so much greater than simply killing one man, and Myka had not yet managed to divert her from her course – not entirely, at least. Helena sighed. She had been so _sure_. She stared at the ceiling until the knock came at the door announcing their food.

 

Myka came out of the bathroom just as Helena was closing the door after pulling the food trolley inside. She was wearing only shorts and a tank top with thin straps. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, still wet from the shower. Helena tried (without success) not to stare.  Myka stopped on her way to the bedroom, cocking her head at Helena quizzically.

 

“What’s up, Helena?”

 

Helena strode over to her and pulled Myka’s face towards her using the convenient handle of her hair. She kissed Myka, walking her backwards to press her against the wall, her hands buried in Myka’s hair and their bodies pressed hard against one another. After a long and breathless moment, she pulled away.

 

“What was that for?” Myka was out of breath, her lips red and a slow flush starting at her chest and working its way up.

 

“You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t resist.” That was all Helena said, before kissing Myka’s hand and turning to the table and setting out their breakfast.  She tried to calm her breathing, her pounding heart. She hadn’t meant to do that, but Myka was so alluring. It was a new feeling for her to want someone this badly. Always before she had taken what she wanted and gone on to the next conquest. She would not be able to do that with Myka Bering. It was all or nothing, and she feared her heart had already made the choice without consulting her.

 

Myka watched her as they ate breakfast, occasionally touching her lips unconsciously. Helena smiled but didn’t remark upon it. They moved to the sofa and Myka put on the first of the Harry Potter movies. Helena was entranced almost from the beginning. She was absorbed by the story, but the special effects, the way that they made the magic seem real – it was wondrous to her, and she had seen real magic – or at least the closest thing to it. She tried popcorn, but she didn’t think much of it. She was much more impressed with the nachos and salsa and the warm cheese sauce that had been provided along with it. She ate it with gusto, and noticed as she licked some of the mixed sauces off her fingers that Myka’s eyes lingered on her mouth and tongue. Such a thing would have made her smirk and flirt in the past, but the way Myka looked at her, with darkened, hooded eyes, made her shiver and flush instead. The effect that Myka had on her was quite unlike anything she’d experienced before. The scientist in her was fascinated by it. But the broken woman that she currently was? She was terrified.

 

They watched three of the movies before they admitted defeat. They had only managed to get through the last one because it was so much better than the first two and they had not been able to stop – or rather, Helena hadn’t, because Myka had seen it already and seemed to spend more of her time enjoying Helena’s reactions to it. They had started their marathon on almost opposite sides of the sofa but by the end of movie number three Myka was drowsing with her head in Helena’s lap, and Helena was scratching her fingers lightly across Myka’s scalp. Helena thought again about how different Myka was, how different it was to be with her. Helena had never before spent any of her leisure time with a lover, not like this. It was very pleasant to just sit and enjoy something playing on the television, or a book, or simply the silence, with someone next to you. Someone who was there simply because they wished to be near you. Helena had been accused in the past of having an inflated sense of her own importance, and perhaps she did believe that she was important insofar as what she had to offer to the Warehouse and to the world in terms of her inventions and her writing and her skills of deduction. But she had never been this important to one person before, other than Christina, and that was an entirely different relationship. Christina had been her daughter, but Myka owed Helena no such familial allegiance.  She simply wanted to be with Helena as much as Helena wished to be with her. It made Helena want to blush and cry and smile all at once. Was this what love felt like? Was this what the poets spoke of? She had never felt anything approaching this for anyone before. Christina’s father had been merely a dalliance, and an ill-advised one at that. And for all her conquests, she couldn’t say in truth that she had ever felt anything stronger than affection and attraction for any of them. Her eyes traced the lines of Myka’s face and her curls, her long lean body, and her hand that was curled so possessively over Helena’s knee. She, Helena Wells, was wanted.

 

They decided after a short discussion to return to the area where the Freedom bar resided, Soho. They picked out a restaurant and Myka called down to reception to arrange a table for dinner. Most large restaurants had a table or two put aside for couples on furlough. Myka then left Helena to dress while she called Artie back as promised. When she returned, her stride was looser and her bearing more relaxed. She smiled broadly as she saw Helena.

 

“Artie says they’ve checked out your story and he is going to return your locket to you when we get to the Warehouse.” She was obviously very relieved about this, but Helena was confused.

 

“Why would he do that, Myka? I don’t think I understand.”

 

“I asked him to. I said it was important to you, and it was therefore important to me. He understands, and he spoke to Mrs Frederic and she agreed that if it tested as not being an artefact of any kind, they would return it to you when we’re finished our furlough.”

 

Helena took Myka’s hands in hers, tears in her eyes once again as she considered the compassion in Myka's heart.

 

“Thank you, Myka. I will never be able to express to you how much this means to me.”

 

Myka kissed her once, softly.

 

“You’re welcome. I’m just glad he agreed. He’s unpredictable and really, really grumpy, and Mrs Frederic is just downright mysterious. I never know what she’s going to do.”

 

“I remember,” Helena murmured. But despite her thoughts of Irene Frederic, it was with a much lighter heart that she left the apartment and walked hand in hand with Myka to the car.

 

Their dinner was sumptuous, much better than any other food Helena had eaten in this time or her own. The dessert was downright decadent, and Helena once again enjoyed Myka’s hungry eyes upon her as she licked an escaped drop of chocolate sauce from her spoon. They talked and talked and drank and kissed and talked again, about nothing of consequence, but they enjoyed one another’s company and the shadow of what had happened between them the day before receded.

 

“Why do you suppose they do this furlough, Myka? It seems a little excessive to meet a complete stranger and spend a month with them, don’t you think?”

 

Myka frowned. “I don’t know, Helena. I mean, I haven’t found it to be an unpleasant experience so far.”

 

Helena smiled at her. “That’s not what I meant. I am enjoying our time together very much. I meant only that to push two people together in this way is risky, no matter how accurate they say their algorithms are. And the fact that they have a 100% success rate puts the whole thing much more in the realm of magic than science, in my opinion.”

 

Myka frowned again. “Do you think there’s an artefact involved in all of this?”

 

“I don’t think it’s much of a leap for either of us to think that. I have been thinking about it rather a lot, actually, and something is tickling at the back of my mind, something that I can’t quite remember. Perhaps with your memory and brilliant mind we might get to the bottom of it.” She pulled Myka’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles.

 

“If it is an artefact, I must say that I am immeasurably grateful that it brought me to you.” She smiled softly as Myka blushed.

 

They stayed at the restaurant much longer than they should have, talking and drinking an impressive amount of wine between them. But they eventually decided to head back, as their conversation was punctuated with yawns from both of them. They were both exhausted, but when they were in bed after ablutions had been completed and pyjamas donned and lights turned off, Helena couldn’t resist kissing Myka’s neck where she was pressed against her, followed by her collarbone. Her hand was making its way teasingly down Myka’s opposite side, and Myka was suddenly breathing heavily.

 

“Helena.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What are you doing?” The last word came out as a bit of a whimper as Helena’s hand brushed Myka’s hipbone gently. Helena was now biting at Myka’s earlobe, and was quite pleased with the suppressed groan that issued from Myka’s throat as a result.

 

“I am exploring uncharted territory. I am a time traveller, you know. It’s my duty.” She spoke absently, and continued to explore Myka’s ear, the soft earlobe and the rigid cartilage, with her tongue and teeth. Her hand was remaining in fairly decent territory, that being Myka’s upper thigh, but she was scratching and nipping at the flesh there and, judging from Myka’s involuntary movements, she was enjoying that too.

 

“I...appreciate...your explorer’s instinct, but if you don’t stop soon, I might not be able to. I’m not sure our judgement is the best right now, what with all the wine...oh god...please...”

 

Helena had slid her hand around Myka’s hip and had very firmly grasped the roundness that was Myka’s trim buttock. Again, it appeared that Myka was enjoying the feeling, and Helena, inebriated as she was, did not want to stop. Things might very well have gone further from there (in fact it was very likely that things would have gone exactly as far as they both really wanted them to) had a knock at the door not interrupted them. A knock at the bedroom door? Helena stiffened, suddenly much more sober, and was out of the bed and standing by the door within a few short seconds. Myka’s eyes were wide. Helena lifted her finger to her lips, encouraging Myka to stay quiet, and then she whipped the door open, ready to attack.

 

“Ms Wells. Agent Bering. We need to talk.”

 

“Mrs Frederic?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena and Myka find out the reason for Mrs Frederic's visit. Some violence in this chapter.

The next day was a lot more encouraging both in terms of Myka’s fears for Helena’s mental health and for their future in general. Helena was very much more herself – or at least the version of her that Myka knew. They watched a few of the Harry Potter movies while lounging around on the couch. It was an awfully decadent and lazy day. Myka spent a lot of time watching and enjoying Helena discovering snack food – her delight was child-like in its intensity, and the noises she made were indecent as she discovering the taste of nachos, cheese, salsa and jalapeños. When Helena licked the sauce from her fingers with the tip of her tongue, Myka almost lost her mind. For once, Helena wasn’t even being suggestive or flirty, but she was nonetheless incredibly sexy, and Myka tried, without much success, to banish the mental image of the tip of Helena’s pink tongue.

 

After their marathon of the first three Harry Potter movies, they went back to Soho for dinner at a fancy brasserie and they had a great time, especially since she had been able to give Helena good news about her locket. Myka’s telephone call to Artie had been brief, but he had been surprisingly pleasant and he had told her that they had solved the mystery of Leena and Claudia. He didn’t go into detail but he told her not to worry and to go and enjoy herself, and assured her that they would be in touch if anything important came up. It was so very unlike Artie to be that nice, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She put it all out of her mind and focused on Helena. Their night was fun, they talked about books, people Helena had known, including some very amusing stories about Oscar Wilde, and they made out a little and got sloppy drunk. All in all, it was a pretty satisfying day, and Myka was beginning to be hopeful that she had a future with Helena.

 

When they got into bed, Myka was pretty sure she’d be asleep in seconds, but she hadn’t counted on the roaming hands and lips of HG Wells, time traveller. Helena was doing things to her that were setting Myka’s nerves alight, and pretty much rocking her world. Myka was starting not to care that they were both very drunk, she just wanted it never to stop.

 

So of course, that would be the time that Mrs Frederic decided to make an entrance. Myka was just grateful that the woman hadn’t materialised, or whatever it was that she did, inside the bedroom.

 

They all moved into the living area and Mrs F settled primly on an overstuffed armchair. Myka stole a glance at Helena, who had been ready to go all Kenpo on Mrs Frederic before she realised who was at the door. Her face was closed and unreadable. Myka knew she had something against Mrs Frederic, but she didn’t know what. She chewed her bottom lip worriedly.

 

“Agent Bering, Ms Wells. Thank you for speaking to me.” Helena muttered something unintelligible and Mrs Frederic raised an eyebrow. Helena dropped her eyes, apparently no better at dealing with Mrs Frederic’s inscrutable gaze than anyone else. That made Myka feel slightly better, for some reason.

 

“I have come to ask a favour of you both. I realise that you are on furlough, and ordinarily I would not trouble a couple during this time, but given the information you provided about James MacPherson, Ms Wells, we believe that he may try to retrieve the Imperceptor vest without your assistance. We cannot have him stealing something that powerful, especially not now that he has the antimatter to power it. He could enter and leave the Warehouse at any time and steal any artefact he wishes, and we would be powerless to stop him. I believe I do not have to explain to either of you how disastrous some of the artefacts could be in his hands.”

 

Myka nodded and watched from the corner of her eye as Helena shuddered slightly and then nodded.

 

“I would like you both to go to the Wells museum tomorrow and retrieve the Imperceptor vest and hand it over to Ms Donovan and Agent Lattimer.”

 

“Claudia is in London?” Myka asked, confused.

 

“Claudia is in Switzerland, currently, with Joshua. When we suspected her of releasing Ms Wells, here, she fled to her brother for help. She will be taking an early morning flight and will meet you at the Wells museum after you have retrieved the vest. Agent Lattimer will meet her to keep her and the vest safe on the way back to the Warehouse. I would not have bothered you both, but I am assuming, Ms Wells, that the Imperceptor vest is very well hidden.”

 

Helena nodded curtly.

 

“Are you willing to help with this matter?”

 

Helena nodded again.

 

“And you, Agent Bering?” Mrs Frederic turned to Myka, her cat’s-eye glasses glinting in the low light.

 

“Of course. If Helena is okay with it, I am happy to help.”

 

Mrs Frederic turned her stare back to Helena.

 

“I am sorry to have to ask this, Ms Wells, but can I – can we trust you? I know that you and I did not part on the best of terms and I would hate for Agent Bering or the rest of the team to suffer because of our history.”

 

Helena glared at her.

 

“I assure you, Mrs Frederic, that I would never harm Myka or her colleagues willingly. I am not perhaps in the best state of mind, thanks to over a century in the Bronze sector, but I believe I should be up to the task of simply retrieving the vest from my old home.” She spat out the words and then turned her head away, breathing deeply as if to calm herself.

 

Myka moved closer to Helena and put her arm around her waist.

 

“We will be fine, Mrs Frederic. I trust Helena.”

 

Helena turned to look at her, and her smile was beatific.

 

“Thank you, Myka,” she murmured.

 

Mrs Frederic watched them for a long moment, taking in their closeness and their body language. Myka was holding Helena close but she was also watching Mrs Frederic slightly belligerently, her chin stuck our as if daring her to argue any further. Mrs Frederic smiled.

 

“I will give you these, for now, to assist you if anything should go wrong. I have arranged for the museum to be closed for the day. You need to be there to meet the curator at 9am. Agent Lattimer and Ms Donovan will meet you there.” She dug two Teslas out of her purse and handed them to Myka.

 

“Your service weapon will be returned to you downstairs, Agent Bering, if you ask at the main office. You can leave it and the Teslas with them when you have completed your task, and you can both return to your furlough thereafter.” She stood up and regarded them both over her glasses.

 

“Thank you for your assistance, both of you.” Her voice was soft, and she seemed to be looking more at Helena than Myka. “It is much appreciated.”

 

Myka turned to look at Helena, who was staring at her feet fixedly. When she looked round, Mrs Frederic was gone.

 

“I wish she wouldn’t do that,” Myka muttered.  

 

Helena looked up.

 

“I’m just glad she’s gone.” Her voice was flat, as it had been when they’d discussed Mrs Frederic in the past.

 

Myka drew Helena close and leaned in to kiss her softly.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena, for whatever she did to upset you. I hope one day you will be able to talk to me about it.”

 

Helena sighed and put her head on Myka’s shoulder. Myka ran her fingers through Helena’s hair, both for Helena’s comfort and her own.

 

They went back to bed, but for the first time since they’d begun their furlough, Myka set an alarm. Her mind was racing with thoughts about the morning, but she shut it down with the ease of long practice and drifted off to sleep in Helena’s arms.

 

*

 

Helena was not expecting Mrs Frederic. She was half expecting that James MacPherson had found her. She was on the defensive immediately. Irene Frederic had wronged her, and they both knew it. Not that Helena truly blamed her for being unable to help, but she did blame the woman for making promises that she couldn’t keep. She had briefly hoped that the Regents would let her transgressions pass and allow her to leave the Warehouse and try to make a life for herself – a hope that she harboured only because she had believed the young and earnest Irene Frederic when she said she would change their minds. They would listen to her because she was going to be the Caretaker, and the Warehouse trusted her. But they had not, and they had offered Helena several unpalatable possibilities as punishment, the least unpleasant of which was the Bronze sector. At least, she had thought it was the least unpleasant. She had realised her mistake immediately when the smoke had hampered her vision cleared, and suddenly she had no vision, or sense of smell, or sense of touch, or hearing, but she remained conscious. She was trapped in complete sensory deprivation for over a century, and Irene Frederic, while not the cause of her imprisonment and madness, had certainly not helped. Helena steeled herself to deal with the enigmatic Caretaker.

 

The experience was slightly better than she had imagined. Myka’s defence of her, while not entirely unexpected, was very welcome. That Mrs Frederic was asking for her help was somewhat of a surprise – she knew now that Bronzed individuals were conscious, and she must have known what that would do to a person. But she seemed to trust Myka a great deal, and it perhaps was Myka’s defence of Helena that convinced Mrs Frederic to trust her.

 

The next morning they showered and dressed quickly. Helena noted with approval that Myka wore fitted, utilitarian clothing. It was best to be prepared for anything. Helena herself tied her hair back from her face in a simple tail and wore close fitting clothing that wouldn’t hamper her movements should they encounter any difficulty. They retrieved Myka’s firearm and were standing outside her Helena’s former residence at 8.50. The curator, a tall woman with a rather imposing nose, showed them in to the library and left them to their own devices. Helena waited until the woman had closed the door behind her and then led Myka to the room in which she’d hidden the Imperceptor vest. She and Myka opened the compartment without difficulty. Myka was professional and focused and didn’t question Helena when she gave instructions.

 

Helena retrieved the vest and they were on their way to the door to leave the building when she heard a strangled noise from Myka, who was slightly behind her.

 

She turned to see the museum curator holding Myka at gunpoint. She was behind Myka and had the gun pushed aggressively up under her chin.

 

“Who are you?” Helena demanded. “What do you want with us?”

 

The woman grinned and made a small flourish with one hand. Suddenly, James MacPherson was standing in her place.

 

Helena thought quickly. Did he know that she had never intended to help him? Did he know about the TiMER? She should see what he knew or didn’t know before she took any action. But if he hurt Myka...she didn’t allow herself to finish the thought.

 

“James. Where have you been? And why did you make me get this bloody thing?” She gesticulated with her left arm, where the TiMER resided. “It has caused me nothing but trouble.” She feigned indignation, waiting for his reaction.

 

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I thought that having the TiMER would allow you to blend in. It’s been years since I met someone without one.” He smiled, his weasel-like countenance making Helena feel slightly ill. She very carefully did not look at Myka. She only hoped that the woman would trust her enough to understand that her performance was for MacPherson’s sake, and was not genuine.

 

“I’ve been forced to stay with this Warehouse agent for almost a week now, James. She says that she’s my...soulmate,” her voice was practically dripping with distaste, “and I haven’t found a way to sneak away. I thought you would come and find me. Why on earth didn’t you?” She affected her most haughty demeanour in an attempt to throw him off balance. He knew that he couldn’t get into the Escher vault or accomplish all of his goals without her expertise. Or, at the very least, without the vest that she now held in her hands.

 

He smirked.

 

“Ah, so that’s what this was all about. How interesting...I had assumed you’d been captured and taken back to South Dakota, but my assistant there assured me that you were still in England. How nice to see you again.”

 

She smirked in reply. “Likewise, James, although I do wish you had been speedier in rescuing me.”

 

“Come then, let’s deal with Agent Bering and get on with it. I intend to implement my plans quickly. I hope you are up to the task, Ms Wells.” He inclined his head in what he probably thought was a chivalrous fashion. She tried hard to mask her disgust under a charming smile. Luckily, she’d had plenty of experience with men such as this. He was far too stupid to see past her charm. At least, she hoped he was.

 

“I shall deal with her.” She said it crisply, gesturing to James to pass Myka into her custody.

 

“Hmm. I rather think not, old friend. I think you might have a soft spot for this one. You see, I don’t entirely trust you not to turn on me. I will dispose of her, and then we can be on our way. Come along, Agent, let’s get this over with.” He gestured to Helena with his free hand. “You first, my dear.”

 

Helena’s mind was racing as she walked past James with an imperious frown. “Very well, James. Although I fail to see what the problem is. This young woman isn’t the first I’ve seduced and I’m sure she won’t be the last. I don’t know what it is that I have done to earn your distrust.”

 

James laughed behind her. Helena’s stomach clenched with rage at the sound.

 

“Did you hear that, Agent Bering? You’re yet another victim of the charm of HG Wells. I myself am not immune to it, I must admit. She is most alluring. I do hope it was worth it, because it will be your last dalliance.”

 

Helena resisted the urge to turn and attack him. To do so would put Myka’s life at too much risk. She gritted her teeth and swept into the library ahead of the man, her mind racing.

 

“Put her over there, James, will you? Now, tell me. Did you get the antimatter? I want to see if the vest works as it should.”

 

He looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but smirked when he saw the cruel look in her eye. He deposited Myka on a chair and cuffed her hands behind her, being sure to wrench her arm cruelly as he did so. Helena gritted her teeth behind her supercilious smile.

 

James took a small canister from his pocket and handed it to Helena, making sure that his hand lingered in hers a moment too long. She gave him a flirtatious smile, stifling the urge to gag, and donned the Imperceptor vest. She was just inserting the antimatter into the appropriate section of the complex wiring when James turned away from her and pointed the gun at Myka. He had fired before she could think, but she pressed the controls on the vest at the same time. If this didn’t work...

 

She blurred across the room and was in front of Myka before the bullet could reach her. It hit Helena in the left shoulder blade, hard, but she was already moving again and was upon James, hitting him again and again until his face was nothing more than blood and bone. She released the controls on the vest, and was relieved to see Myka unhurt but still handcuffed to the chair, with a very confused look on her face. It was then that Agent Lattimer burst into the room with a short, redheaded woman behind him. Both had Teslas extended in front of them. Helena stared at them both for a second and then fainted dead away.

 

*

 

It was a nightmare. There was no other word for it. They had retrieved the vest. Myka was so impressed with Helena’s ingenuity in designing the locking mechanism and the secret compartment where it was hidden that she almost jumped her right there. But she was a professional, so she did her job. They were on their way out of the museum and then suddenly there was a gun under her chin. Where had the woman even come from? Myka swallowed, and the gun pressed harder still against her windpipe.

 

It turned out to be MacPherson, and Helena – her beautiful Helena, was suddenly a sneering, cruel villain who was flirting with the bastard holding Myka prisoner. It seemed that he didn’t entirely trust her, but Myka didn’t blame him – she didn’t know whether to trust Helena either. Helena was smiling at him and she never once looked at Myka, dismissing her with haughty arrogance. They went into the library and MacPherson cuffed Myka to a chair, and he and Helena were talking about antimatter and plans. Myka didn’t know what to make of any of it, didn’t know how to deal with this version of the woman she had spent the last week with. She wanted to think the best of Helena, but this cruel, flirtatious veneer she was projecting was pretty damn terrifying. Myka was choking back tears and wondering if this was going to be her last memory – the cruel smile on Helena’s face – as MacPherson turned to her and raised the gun. She vividly remembered hearing the gun go off but then MacPherson was on the ground, his face a bloody pulp. And Helena appeared from thin air and was standing next to his body with a look of shock on her face. There was blood on the vest, a spreading, growing stain. And blood on her fists.

 

Pete and Claudia burst in to the room, Teslas at the ready, but it was already over. Whatever it was. And Helena was falling, and Myka couldn’t catch her as her head hit the corner of the table and she sprawled bonelessly on the floor of the library.

 

“NO!” Myka screamed, and Pete was there, he was letting her out of the cuffs, and Claudia was at Helena’s side, taking her pulse as Myka ran to her.

 

“Myka, she’s alive, but we need to get an ambulance. Now.” Claudia got her phone out and called the paramedics while Myka stripped off her jacket and put pressure on the wound. The bullet seemed to have entered Helena’s shoulder from the back but the exit wound was lower, in her chest, and far too close to her heart.  Myka was panicking.  She had thought the worst of Helena, had thought she was betraying Myka, and now Helena’s blood was on her hands, and Helena might die before they could ever find out if they really were soulmates, if they could really be each other’s future.

 

The paramedics arrived and Pete pulled Myka away as they worked on Helena. Myka knew that he was speaking but she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see anything but the blood on her hands, the whiteness of Helena’s face. They had to shock Helena twice before they even got her into the ambulance. They wouldn’t let Myka go with the ambulance but Pete commandeered a police car to take them to the hospital. When they got there the nurses wouldn’t tell them anything, just that Helena was in surgery. There was blood everywhere. Myka looked at her hands and tried to remember how they’d got here. Yesterday things were so good – they were together, they were talking and laughing and Helena was looking at her like she maybe loved her, and they’d been watching Harry Potter, for Christ’s sake. How did they get here?

 

She was in the bathroom with no memory of how she got there and Claudia was washing her hands, washing away the blood, and Myka was trying to pull away, because what if the blood was all she had left of Helena? She almost screamed at Claudia and the girl backed away, her eyes wide. Pete was there and he helped her pat Myka’s hands dry, leaving them bloody, and he led her back to the waiting room.

 

Pete and Claudia were on either side of her, and they were talking to her in low, soothing voices but she couldn’t hear them. Pete put his jacket around her shoulders and tried to get her to take a cup of coffee, but she just stared at him dumbly until he took it away.

 

The doctor came to talk to them and Myka couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask the question.

 

“She’s still alive, Mykes. She’s still alive.” Pete’s voice filtered through the fog in her brain. The doctor was gone. When did he go?

 

“She’s alive, Myka. Come on.” Pete led her slowly to a room where machines were beeping and Helena was there, tiny in the hospital bed, her face white and tubes coming out of both arms. Her head was bandaged and there was a tube in her throat. She couldn’t breathe on her own. She had taken a bullet for Myka. The doctor came in behind them and was talking about head injuries and survival percentages and the numbers, the numbers were too low...

 

Myka heard a strange noise, a ragged noise. Was someone screaming? She was on her knees, and Pete was wrapped around her. He was shouting something, and something stung Myka’s arm. She slipped into unconsciousness in seconds.


	11. Chapter 11

Pete was terrified. He met Claudia at the airport, and they had just arrived at the Wells museum when they heard the gunshot. He ran in, kicked his way in to the library and there she was. Myka’s match, who was HG Wells, as it turned out, standing over a dead man with a smashed up face. His brains were on the floor. Pete swallowed. HG had blood on her fists and blood on her chest. Pete was trying to decide what to do about that when she made the decision for him by passing out. She hit her head pretty hard on the way down, too. Claudia went to check on her and he went to let Myka out of the cuffs. She ran over to the HG and pressed her jacket against the wound on her chest. HG was losing a lot of blood. Claudia called the paramedics and Pete just stood there, not knowing what to do. What the hell had even happened? They were supposed to be picking up the damn vest, the vest that the hot English chick was bleeding all over as they spoke, and instead there was a dead dude and an almost dead HG Wells. Myka didn’t talk other than to say that Helena had saved her, had taken a bullet for her.

 

He spoke to the police outside when the paramedics wouldn’t let them go with, and flashed his badge and threatened until they agreed to follow the ambulance. Myka was shaking and muttering. There was blood all over her. He’d never seen her like this, she was incoherent. Myka was always calm, it was Pete who was the one who freaked out, not Myka. He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat next to her and talked to her quietly, telling her it was going to be okay. When they were at the hospital Claudia had tried to clean Myka’s hands, and she screamed. Just once, but it was enough to freak the hell out of Claud. And Pete, for that matter. He wrapped her up in his jacket and tried to keep her calm.

 

When they took Myka to the hospital room, she was okay for a minute, listening to the doc. But he said that the news wasn’t good, and talked about percentages, and then Myka started to scream, these guttural, awful screams, and he shouted for help. She collapsed to her knees, his partner who was usually so together and composed. The doc gave her a shot, and Pete carried her to a nearby room and left her sleeping with a nurse watching over her while he checked on Claudia.

 

“Hey Claud, are you okay?”

 

She was sitting on the hard plastic chairs in the hallway, hugging her knees. Her face was nearly as white as HG Wells’.

 

“Yeah, I guess.” She attempted a smile. “I just never thought I would see Myka like that, you know? She’s usually the one comforting us. I have never seen her lose it like that. And her match - HG – it doesn’t look good, you know? Not just the gunshot wound, but her head – man, she hit it really hard. The doc said they don’t know for sure how bad it is, not yet anyway. But it’s not good. I don’t think she’s gonna make it, Pete. And she saved Myka. It’s not fair.”

 

Pete sat next to her.

 

“I know, Claud. It all went really bad, really fast. We just have to be here for Mykes. She’s gonna be okay. Hopefully HG will too.”

 

Claudia gave him a sceptical look, but took a deep breath and said, “We need to call Artie. He needs to know.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They called Artie on the Farnsworth.

 

“Pete. Did you get the vest?”

 

They explained what had happened, and that the man on the floor was MacPherson. (It had been a pretty safe bet that it was him already, because nobody else wore that much tweed. But the police had confirmed it for Pete on the way to the hospital.) Artie put his head in his hands.

 

“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. He was a good man, once.”

 

“I’m sorry, man. But he tried to kill Myka. I would have killed him myself if HG hadn’t.”

 

“Is she going to live?” Artie didn’t sound like he really cared either way, which Pete thought was pretty unfair.

 

“They don’t know yet. But she took a bullet for Myka, Artie. In my book, that makes her one of us.” Pete didn’t often confront Artie, but he wasn’t going to let this slide. He glared a little, his chin stuck out pugnaciously.

 

“Yes, yes, she saved Myka. I’ve got the message, Pete. I’ll speak to Mrs Frederic and see if there’s anything we can do.”

 

Pete nodded. “Good.”

 

“Claudia, are you okay?” Artie’s face was creased in concern. They knew Claudia didn’t like hospitals, but Pete didn’t know why. He suspected that Artie did, though.

 

“Yeah, grumps, I’m fine. Worry about Myka and her One, not me.” She was hugging her knees again. Pete resolved to keep her spirits up however he could. He had a PSP in his bag; maybe that would help distract her.

 

“Alright. I’m going to contact Mrs Frederic. Keep me updated.” And Artie was gone.

 

Pete closed the Farnsworth and sat next to Claudia, putting his arm around her shoulders. She tensed and then leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. They stayed there overnight, huddled together, waiting to see what the dawn would bring.

 

What the dawn brought was Mrs Frederic, holding a gold staff with a snake and wings on it.

 

“Agent Lattimer. Ms Donovan.”

 

They woke up with a start, and wiped drool from their chins as they tried to extricate themselves from each other and the hospital chairs with some semblance of dignity.

 

“I need your assistance.”

 

They both nodded at the grave tone of the Caretaker’s voice.

 

“This is the rod of Asclepius. It will heal Agent Wells, but it has a downside. It will inflict the wounds upon the wielder of the staff – that is, me. Since I am connected to the Warehouse, the injuries Agent Wells has sustained will not be fatal to me. I will, however, be indisposed for a time while I recover. I need you to take me away from here discreetly so that I can recover. Can you do that?”

 

Claudia stared at Mrs Frederic, and then met Pete’s eyes and mouthed the words, “Agent Wells?”  Pete shrugged. They had a plan to make, and he wasn’t going to dwell on that part of things. HG had earned the job as far as he was concerned – if she even wanted it.

 

After that it was just a matter of making a few calls. They rented a house nearby with a garage so they could take Mrs F inside without being seen. And he called a car rental company who had a car with a large trunk there in a half hour.

 

Claudia took off in a cab to meet the rental agent and get the keys for the house, and Pete stayed with Mrs F so she could do the mumbo-jumbo with the staff to save Myka’s One. Pete had a gurney standing by for when Mrs F collapsed.

 

“Agent Lattimer. Please ensure that you do not touch the staff – or me – without gloves, at least until you have taken the staff from my hands. Otherwise the injuries will pass to you, and you will not survive them.” He nodded, frowning at the seriousness of her tone. He snapped his gloves on and positioned the gurney next to Mrs Frederic.

 

It was a little anticlimactic after all that. Mrs F just touched the end of the staff gently to HG’s forehead and then staggered. Pete guided her onto the gurney and took the staff out of her hands gently, making sure not to touch it with his bare skin. He put the staff on the gurney next to Mrs F and was just about to roll her out of there when he heard a choking noise from the hospital bed.

 

HG was waking up and she was panicking. He moved to the bed and turned her face so she could see him.

 

“HG. It’s Pete, do you remember me?” She nodded, her eyes wide and terrified.

 

“I have to go right now, but you’re okay, I promise. Don’t panic. Just press the call button and the nurses will come after I’ve gone, okay? You can trust me, you saved Myka. That means you and me are buds for life. So just stay calm, okay?” She nodded again, this time with conviction.

 

Pete rolled Mrs Frederic out of the room and down the corridor to a side door where he’d stashed the car. He managed to get her into the trunk without being noticed and drove to the house where he met Claudia and the two of them got Mrs F into a bedroom without too much trouble. She was surprisingly light, actually. But Pete didn’t voice that thought. He figured the word ‘surprisingly’ might get him killed. He left Claudia with Mrs Frederic and drove back to the hospital to check on Myka and HG.

 

*

 

Myka woke up alone in a hospital room and for a moment she had no idea what she was doing there. Then she remembered. Helena.

 

She was out of bed and on her feet before she had thought things through. Thankfully she realised that she was wearing one of those stupid hospital gowns that are open at the back before she left the room and showed her bare ass to half of London. She found her clothes in a bedside cabinet and got dressed quickly, shuddering at the caked blood on her jeans and shirt. Helena had to still be alive. She just had to.

 

She walked out into the unfamiliar corridor and was trying to find the nurse’s station when she caught sight of Helena’s still form in a room a couple of doors down from hers. Helena was completely motionless, and Myka was horrified when she noticed that there weren’t any tubes any more, no bandages. Why would they have taken the tubes out? She couldn’t be – was she dead? Why was no-one with her?

 

She sank down in the chair next to the bed and touched Helena’s hand hesitantly. Her warm, soft hand.

 

Helena’s eyes snapped open.

 

“Myka.” Her voice was warm and sweet and beautiful. She was alive? How could she be okay? – the bullet had shredded her lung, damaged her heart, and the head injury – what the hell had happened?

 

“How?” That was all Myka could get out.

 

“Mrs Frederic.” Pete’s voice came from behind her.

 

“Peter. What did Irene do? Is she all right?” Helena asked, her voice low and concerned.

 

“She used the Rod of a Creepy Ass.”

 

“The Rod of Asclepius?” Myka asked, eyebrow raised.

 

Pete shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds right. She took HG’s injuries on herself, she said. The Warehouse will fix her. Claudia’s with her.”

 

Helena shook her head, wonderingly.

 

“I can’t believe she would do that, for me.”

 

“Well, you earned it, HG. You saved Mykes.” He ran over to the bed, the great big man-child, and put his arms round Helena and squeezed. Myka stifled a giggle at the look on Helena’s face. She looked startled and horrified all at once.

 

Then Pete squeezed Myka, too.

 

“I’m so glad you’re safe, Mykes. When I heard that gunshot...you promised me we’d go out together, man. Don’t do that to me, okay?”

 

She squeezed him right back.

 

“It wasn’t really my idea, Pete. We were just supposed to be picking up the damn vest. I didn’t expect to get held at gunpoint by James MacPherson. If Helena hadn’t been there...” she trailed off, smiling softly over his shoulder at Helena.

 

Pete let her go and straightened up, bouncing on his toes.

 

“I’m gonna go and check with the docs to see if we can get you guys outta here. I can take you back to your apartment.” He bounded off, leaving Myka and Helena staring at each other in stunned silence.

 

Myka broke it first.

 

“When I saw you just now, they’d taken all the tubes out, all the machines. I thought you...I thought you were dead.” Her eyes were filled with tears.

 

“And I thought I wouldn’t get to you in time. I thought he was going to kill you, Myka. I thought I was going to lose you.” Helena sat up, clutching Myka’s hand as if it was a lifeline.

 

“If he’d killed you, Myka – I don’t know what I would have done.” Her eyes were dark, and Myka could see that hint of...something behind her eyes.

 

“But he didn’t, Helena. Because you saved me. You could have died, but you stood in front of me and took a bullet that was meant for me.”

 

Helena looked at her and her eyes were filled with tears, but there was a look of wonder in her eyes as they met Myka’s.

 

“I would do anything for you, Myka.”

 

Suddenly the distance between them was too great. Myka stood and leaned over the bed to kiss Helena, burying her hands in that hair that was still perfect even after a head injury. Definitely the blood of virgins, Myka thought idly. Helena’s lips were soft and warm. She was alive. Myka’s heart was thudding with relief and happiness and she wanted to climb into that bed right now with Helena and finish what they’d started the night Mrs Frederic interrupted. Finish it and then start it again and again. From the way Helena’s hands were roaming, and grasping convulsively at Myka’s clothes, she was feeling the same.

 

“Ahem!”

 

Myka reluctantly broke away from Helena, turning to see a very happy looking Pete in the doorway of the hospital room.

 

“Sorry, laydeez.” He was grinning in a way that Myka knew meant trouble for her in future – endless jokes and teasing about lady-lovin’ and what it was like to ‘hit that’. She glared at him. There was real venom in it.

 

Pete gulped as he took in the look on her face.

 

“Uh, sorry, but the doc says you guys can go now. Dr Calder had to call them to persuade them to let you go, HG, because they don’t understand how you recovered so quickly. Anyway we should probably go before they change their minds.”

 

He shrank back as Myka continued to glare.

 

“I’ll just wait outside while you get ready, then. Spit spot!” He attempted a Mary Poppins voice at that last, and Myka’s glare grew withering. He backed away, hands up as if she had a gun on him. She thought she might, if he carried on.

 

She turned back to Helena.

 

“Are you ready to get out of here?” She smiled softly, just enjoying the fact that Helena was there, was alive. The way she’d hit her head – Myka had really thought that was it for Helena - for them.

 

Helena’s smile in response was almost blinding in its intensity.

 

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to get you alone, Agent Bering.” Her voice was low and throaty. Myka’s face reddened and her heart thudded pleasantly in her chest.

 

“You better get dressed, then. So I can undress you again.” It was Helena’s turn to flush, this time. Myka grinned.

 

Pete insisted that Helena sit in the front of the car, now that they were ‘best buds’. Helena’s smile was a little uneasy, and Myka tried very hard not to laugh, but a snort escaped her, and Helena gave her a withering look from the front seat.

 

The journey home was way too long. Myka was leaning forward with her head between the front seats, and she was holding Helena’s hand, but she just wanted to launch herself onto the front seat and do things to Helena that would probably make Pete crash the car. She bit her lip in frustration, but was slightly mollified when Helena caught her eye and she could see the reflection of her own frustration in those dark eyes.

 

Pete was slow to take the hint when they arrived at the apartment building. But after a few minutes during which he was blatantly trying to invite himself in, Myka asked Helena to go on up and she’d see her in a minute. She waited until Helena was out of earshot and rounded on Pete in a fury.

 

“Pete. Are you frickin’ kidding me? This is our furlough. She was just nearly killed. You have got to go, or I will kill you with my bare hands, do you understand?” She punched him in the arm, hard enough to make him wince. He shrank back against the car, his hands up in surrender once again.

 

“Sorry, Mykes, I’ve just been missing ya. And I want to get to know your girl!”

 

Myka gave him her trade-mark death glare.

 

“Yeah, well so do I, Pete. In private. So if you’re not gone in the next minute, they’re gonna need Mrs Frederic to heal you too. Okay?”

 

He ran forward and gave her a quick hug, and said, “I love you, Mykes,” into her ear, and then made a big show of checking his watch to see how much longer he had before his minute was up. She punched him in the arm again and he finally relented.

 

“Have fun, lady lover.”

 

Her glare was hotter than the sun. He grinned as he drove away.

 

Myka practically ran the whole way to the apartment. Helena was sitting at the table as she opened the door, and then she was on her feet, and she was in Myka’s arms. They were kissing hard and Helena pushed Myka back against the door, her hands pulling at Myka’s collar and grabbing her curls. There was an intensity to all of it that was making Myka’s head spin. Somewhere in her brain a voice was telling her that this was just a reaction to them both nearly dying, to Helena sacrificing herself for Myka, but she told the voice to shut the hell up.

 

They broke apart for a moment, gasping.

 

“You nearly died.” Myka said, flatly.

 

“I know.”

 

“If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you.”

 

“Noted.” Helena’s chest was heaving.

 

Myka spun them around so that Helena was against the door, and she kissed her hungrily, burying her hands in that beautiful hair, pulling a little harder than she normally would, and biting Helena’s lip. She was suddenly angry and sad and she wanted Helena more than she’d ever wanted anything.  She reached down and scooped Helena up in her arms like she weighed nothing and carried them both to the bedroom, kissing Helena fervently the whole time, turning once again to close the door behind them. She pushed Helena against the bedroom door, pushed their bodies together, pulling at her clothes and claiming every available inch of the woman she now knew she was in love with.

 

They moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Myka took off Helena’s shirt quickly, urgently, her fingers making quick work of the buttons. Her hands stilled when she saw that there was no scar, no visible mark of the bullet that had nearly claimed Helena’s life. Helena saw the look in Myka’s eyes, the set of her jaw, and said, “Myka, what...”

 

That was all she got out before Myka’s mouth was covering hers again, her tongue possessively moving against Helena’s and her hands pulling at zips and tearing at buttons. But Helena surprised Myka then by pulling her down and flipping them over so that Myka was lying underneath Helena, and she had somehow managed to capture both of Myka’s wrists in her hands so that she couldn’t continue her aggressive exploration of Helena’s body.

 

“Not that I’m complaining, my love, but something isn’t right. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

 

Myka stared at her, furious and scared and sad all at once.

 

“You could have died. You could have left me, and you never would have even known,” she said plaintively, in a tiny voice.

 

“Known what, Myka?” Helena’s voice was soft and trembling.

 

“You wouldn’t have known. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.” Myka was crying now, her eyes almost grey in the half-light of the bedroom.

 

“Tell me now. It’s alright. I’m here.” She kissed Myka softly, and moved her lips to Myka’s cheek to kiss the tears that were cascading from her eyes.

 

“I love you, Helena.” She looked into Helena’s eyes as she said it, said the words that she never thought she’d say again after Sam.

 

Helena’s eyes filled and her mouth trembled.

 

“I love you too, Myka. I love you.”

 

Their lips were joined again and Myka couldn’t think about any of it anymore, because all she could think about was the paleness of Helena’s flesh, the softness of her skin, the way she moved, how her eyes fluttered closed when Myka touched her in the right place, the freckles that popped up in the most unexpected of places. How she sounded, her breath coming in soft gasps, and the moans that escaped her when Myka kissed the right spot in the soft curve of her back. The taste of her mouth. They moved together as if they’d done this a thousand times before, and Myka thought that even if they did this another thousand times, she would still not stop feeling this breathless awe that the woman beneath her was the time traveller she’d dreamed of since she was a child. She was a miracle made flesh, and Myka would never let her go, never again. Every touch they shared was magnified by the fear of losing one another, and the relief that they hadn’t. Myka was lost in Helena’s eyes, and when Helena came with a groan that bordered on a scream, Myka thought she might die of want and longing and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe the Rod of Asclepius was mentioned at some point during the show, and that the downside was something to do with snakes attacking. Anyway I decided to use it for the purposes of Pete calling it the Rod of a Creepy Ass.


	12. Chapter 12

Helena woke with a start to the sound of unfamiliar beeping noises and the sound of someone shuffling around beside her. She had something in her throat, and it was making her gag. She started to fight it, but the vaguely familiar face of Myka’s partner was looming over her, and he explained that she was okay, she was alive, and she just had to wait for him to leave and then the nurses would be there. She tried not to fight the feeling of the tube in her throat, utilising the endurance that she had needed to get through a century in the Bronze Sector.

 

Pete left the room with Mrs Frederic’s prone body and Helena was able to wait for a sensible interval before pressing the button to call the nurses. A small woman came running through the door, a look of shock on her face as she took in Helena’s panicked face. Ah. They hadn’t expected her to wake, obviously.

 

After that Helena’s head spun with the activity around her. They pulled the tube out, causing her to gag and cough for long moments, and there were people around here taking her blood pressure and pulse and shining lights in her eyes and asking her who the prime minister was. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the faintest idea about that, so she just said she’d been overseas for a time and wasn’t sure. They asked a lot of questions about what had happened, and told her that she’d need to speak to the police, but she told them firmly that she would be happy to discuss the incident after she returned from her furlough. They backed away respectfully after that, telling her that Myka was in a room nearby sleeping off a sedative that they’d had to give her the day before.

 

“She was very upset, your One. She will be okay.” The doctor was young and blonde, and she looked like she should have been in school, but Helena nodded reluctantly. She would have to wait until Myka was awake. But she was alive, that was the important thing. Helena allowed herself to relax as the nurses bustled around her, removing needles and, rather unpleasantly, a urinary catheter. They finally left her in peace, muttering about miraculous recoveries and calling consultants in other hospitals. She fell into an uneasy slumber, waiting for Myka to be at her side once again.

 

The soft touch of Myka’s hand woke her. Myka looked pale, and her eyes had huge dark circles under them, but she was radiant.

 

“Myka,” Helena breathed. She had never been so happy, so relieved. This woman had become her whole world in the space of only a week. The hand in hers was vital and alive, and she would kill a thousand James MacPhersons and die a thousand deaths before she would allow Myka Bering to be taken from this world.

 

And the decision she had been struggling with, the madness she was fighting, it all suddenly became irrelevant. To end this world was to end Myka. There was, therefore, no decision. The madness remained, of course, because it was part of Helena now, part of her view of the world. But she was not going to hurt anyone. She would be better, would be worthy. For Myka.

 

Their journey home was interminable, and Pete, while charming and sweet and silly, was keeping her from Myka. She swallowed her frustration but was pleased to see that Myka was just as frustrated, biting her lip and clenching her fists convulsively. Her eyes never left Helena’s.

 

She went upstairs to wait for Myka to get rid of her partner. He was incredibly annoying, but so affectionate. Like a puppy, Helena thought. She tried not to fidget too much as she waited for the woman she loved to come back. The woman she loved. When had she realised that? Probably around the time MacPherson had pointed a gun at Myka, and Helena had put herself in the way of a bullet. The bullet had impacted against the inside of the Imperceptor vest, and luckily had not passed through to hit Myka. Helena blanched as she suddenly realised that the bullet could have hit the antimatter canister and levelled a large section of London.

 

Myka came through the door without warning, and Helena was on her feet and in Myka’s arms in an instant. They kissed hungrily, and Myka spun and almost threw Helena against the door, pressing their bodies together firmly. She suddenly lifted Helena off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, her hands and lips roaming deliciously freely. But there was something wrong. Myka was livid when she saw that there was no mark from the bullet that almost claimed Helena’s life, and was almost desperate in her attempts to undress Helena. Helena didn’t want to do this – to make love to Myka for the first time - when Myka was angry. So she captured Myka underneath her, holding her hands at bay. She asked Myka what was wrong, looking into those eyes that had quite captured her heart, and that’s when Myka said it. She said she loved Helena. Helena Wells, who had never heard those words before from anyone other than her brother and her daughter. She was overcome with love for the woman who had drawn her from the brink of madness. For the first time in her too-long life, Helena Wells made love with someone who loved her, someone who she loved. It was nothing like any of the experiences she’d had with her past lovers. It was profound, and it was intensely sensual, but mere words did not capture the true import of that day and the night that followed. For Helena, it was as if the world had tilted on its axis. And the fulcrum upon which it tilted was Myka Bering.

 

*

 

The following morning Myka woke to see a very alive (and very asleep) Helena Wells next to her in the large bed that they’d been sharing for a week. She relished the opportunity to just look at the woman who had changed her world irrevocably in the space of one week. The woman who had already proven that she would give her life for Myka. Her eyes traced Helena’s features – the soft, full lips, the impossibly dark eyelashes and eyebrows that were for once not raised in amusement or enquiry, and the soft freckled skin that had almost made her heart stop the day before when she had first discovered it. She was, as she had once described Myka to be, exquisite. There was a darkness in her that Myka knew would not be easily removed, but after the events of the previous few days, Myka trusted her not to be consumed by it.

 

The day before had been a series of new experiences for Myka. She wasn’t a person who acted on instinct, normally, preferring to think things through thoroughly where possible. In her job, it was important to notice the small details, to take everything in before acting. Yesterday she had given in to her very strong desires concerning Helena with an intensity that made her blush. She wondered, now, as she took in Helena’s sleeping form, what she had been so afraid of. Yes, she had never slept with a woman before, but the way that Helena made her feel was so incredible that her inexperience didn’t matter. The physicality of it did not matter. What mattered was the way they moved together, the way that Myka, for once, felt like she was home.

 

Myka didn’t have many hobbies. She read lots of books, she ran, she fenced. She had thought, at one point, about taking up skydiving. But then Sam died, and she decided that it posed too much of a risk to be worth it. Looking at Helena sleeping in the bed next to her, her dark hair in startling contrast to the whiteness of the sheets, she thought that this must be what skydiving feels like. In Helena she had found everything she needed - the thrill of the leap, the long fall, and the safe landing.   

 

Myka decided that breakfast in bed was the order of the day. This furlough had suddenly become a honeymoon of sorts, and honeymoons always seemed to involve breakfast in bed, so far as Myka could determine from the plethora of romantic comedies that Claudia and Leena had forced her to watch. She slid out of bed as quietly as she could, pulled on some PJs and went in to the other room, managing somehow not to disturb Helena. She called the reception downstairs and asked if they could send some breakfast up – something romantic, perhaps? The guy on the desk chuckled and said he thought they might be able to rustle something up. Myka used the bathroom and gave her teeth a thorough brush and floss. She had a thing about morning breath, hers and other people’s. When she had said to Helena a few mornings ago that she must really like her, she meant it. She’d never once kissed Sam in the morning until they had both brushed and flossed. But with Helena a bit of morning breath or imperfect kissing or pinching the wrong place didn’t seem to matter. It was all imperfect, but perfect, because it was her.

 

(Andy Davies was the young man on the other end of the phone when Myka called down for breakfast. Myka would have been mortified, and Helena incredibly amused, by what happened next. Andy turned to his colleagues in the reception area and said, “All right guys, who guessed today for room 302? Because I believe we have a winner...” He chuckled to himself. He had guessed it would take longer for those two, as they both seemed awfully stubborn, but obviously he was wrong. Joanne, his girlfriend, who worked in the kitchen, said that the drivers were always talking about those two and how much chemistry they had. “You know Dave? The bodybuilder? He said that the American is some sort of copper, and she beat the crap out of some guy for slagging them off, and then snogged the life out of her girlfriend in the middle of the street. He said it was well hot.” Joanne was a bit of a gossip. Even after hearing that story, Andy had still thought it would take longer for them. Never mind, he thought to himself. There’s always room 205 – he had put a fair bit of money on those two...)

 

A discreet knock at the door interrupted Myka’s musings. She went to open it, and their usual delivery guy smiled at her as he rolled in a trolley with 2 breakfast trays on it. They’d gone all out – there was a vase with 12 red roses, a bowl of strawberries with chocolate sauce for dipping, covered dishes of what smelled like bacon and eggs, pancakes, coffee, orange juice, mimosas...

 

“Wow,” was all she could say.

 

“We tend to make a fuss on special occasions, Agent Bering.” He winked at her.

 

She blushed and said, “Thanks,” ducking her head to hide her embarrassment. He chuckled and pulled the door closed, saying, “Enjoy your morning, ma’am.”

 

She rolled the trolley into the bedroom quietly, and arranged a selection of foods on a tray for Helena. She carried it to Helena’s side, and placed it on the floor carefully before kneeling down beside the bed and kissing Helena’s closed eyes softly.

 

“Good morning, honey.”

 

“Mmmmph,” was the less than encouraging response.

 

More kisses, this time on the ear and cheek, elicited the same response. It took some tickling and a bite on the earlobe before Helena sat up, eyes still closed, and said, “All right, I’m up, I’m up.”

 

Myka lifted the tray from the floor and placed it over Helena’s knees carefully.

 

“Breakfast, my love.”

 

Helena finally opened her eyes, and her pout dissolved into a smile as she took in the roses and the strawberries and mimosas.

 

“This is rather romantic, my darling. Thank you.” She was practically glowing, her brown eyes bright in the sunlight. Myka was filled with a joy that she could honestly say she’d never felt before. She had loved Sam, she really had, but it paled in comparison to how she felt about Helena Wells, time traveller extraordinaire. She figured this must be what the soulmate part was all about. She smiled at Helena shyly and retrieved her own breakfast tray and joined Helena on the bed. They giggled like idiots, toasting each other with mimosas and feeding each other strawberries and after a while the giggles turned into kisses and the kisses turned into behaviour that very nearly tipped the remains of their breakfast everywhere. Helena chuckled and removed the offending trays, leaving it all (except for the remaining chocolate sauce, for which she said she had definite plans) outside the door of the apartment and rushing back to the bedroom to launch herself onto the bed. Myka said something about Pete and how he would die if he saw this, and Helena just had enough time to ask what she was talking about before Myka hit her with a pillow. Some very undignified tussling ensued, and Myka finally begged for mercy when Helena found a particularly ticklish spot. They did not emerge from the bedroom until a number of hours later.

 

Myka was sitting on the sofa reading when a very tired Helena Wells exited the bathroom towelling her hair dry. Myka looked up and her breath stilled for a moment as she took in the vision before her. Barefoot, wearing tight black jeans and a grey shirt, her wet hair ink-black against her skin, she was heart-stoppingly beautiful. Myka didn’t know what her own face looked like, but when Helena caught her staring, a soft blush began at her cheeks but spread down her neck and chest, and her eyes contained a look of wonder, of wondering. Myka wondered in that moment if she would ever be able to breathe again.

 

There was another knock at the door, and Myka groaned involuntarily. She’d already begun thinking about how she would remove those jeans, rolling them one inch at a time, kissing each inch of skin as it appeared...

 

Helena was smirking. “Patience, love.” She arched an eyebrow at Myka, and went to answer the door.

 

“Irene.”

 

It was, indeed, Irene. Mrs Frederic was accompanied by, and leaning on, Claudia. Behind them was a very flustered looking TiMERcorp staff member pushing a trolley filled with china cups and what looked like a very posh afternoon tea, with scones and small sandwiches.

 

“You can leave it over there, young man,” said Mrs Frederic, gesturing imperiously. “Claudia, could you?” Claudia guided Mrs F to a chair and started serving the tea, darting looks at Helena and Myka nervously. The last time she’d seen Myka she was hysterical, and the last time she’d seen Helena she was practically dead. Myka and Helena sat next to one another on the couch, close but not touching, and Claudia took the other chair.

 

Claudia served up the tea and food on the small coffee table in the living area. Myka lifted her cup to her lips, swearing under her breath as she burned herself on the hot china. The silence grew awkward, and Helena finally broke it.

 

“So, Mrs Frederic, I understand that I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

 

Mrs Frederic smiled wryly.

 

“Perhaps, Agent Wells, but I believe you would not have needed my help had we not sent you and Agent Bering into danger in the first place.”

 

Helena’s eyes widened slightly at this admission. And at Mrs Frederic’s form of address.

 

“We chose to retrieve the vest, Mrs Frederic. I believe we were aware of the risks.”

 

“And yet, I feel I should never have disturbed a couple on furlough. It has become somewhat of a sacred time, and I regret interrupting yours. Especially as things turned out so badly.”

 

Myka was suddenly angry. She had known the risks, or at least she thought she had, but James MacPherson had turned out to be more deadly than any of them had anticipated, and Helena had nearly died. She had almost lost her soulmate after just finding her. She clenched her teeth, choking back her rage, and tried to concentrate on the here and now. She looked up to see Claudia giving her the side-eye anxiously.

 

Helena continued.

 

“Nevertheless, Irene, you saved my life. I imagine that it has not been a pleasant 24 hours for you, despite your connection to the Warehouse. I would have been more than happy to have given my life for Myka, but you brought me back so that I can live for her.” She turned her gaze to Myka, and the love in her eyes was almost blinding in its intensity. She murmured, “I am immeasurably grateful to you for the opportunity to spend the rest of my life making Myka as happy as possible.” Myka’s eyes filled with tears.

 

Claudia squeaked, and three pairs of eyes turned to regard her, eyebrows raised. She shrank back.

 

“Sorry,” she muttered. “That was just the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

Myka blushed, and after a moment, Helena did too. Claudia squeaked again, and this time no-one commented.

 

“I will leave you to your furlough in just a moment, ladies. I would like to make you an offer, though, Agent Wells. The Warehouse wants you back. And so do I. You have more than proven yourself rehabilitated and worthy. And I would like to offer you any help you might need to acclimatise yourself to this new century. Any help at all.” She looked at Helena gravely, and it was clear that she was well aware that Helena was likely to have unique problems following over a century in the Bronze sector. Helena looked at Myka, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

 

“What do you think, love?”

 

Myka thought for a moment, chewing on her lip furiously.

 

“I think you belong at the Warehouse, Helena. And I think we should take any help we can to get you adjusted to being here, and out of the Bronze. But the decision is yours. Wherever you want to go, and whatever you want to do, I’m with you.” She said it simply, but the implication was clear. She was not leaving Helena, even if that meant Myka herself leaving the Warehouse. Helena’s eyes widened as she realised what Myka was saying.

 

“I believe I should probably take some time to think about this and discuss it with Myka, if that’s all right with you, Mrs Frederic.”

 

“Very well, Agent Wells.” Mrs Frederic stood up unsteadily. It was strange to see her anything but 100% put together, Myka thought. But it probably wasn’t surprising, given that she had taken on Helena’s fatal wounds just over 24 hours before.

 

“I have asked the TiMERcorp office to extend your furlough for a further week, Agents, given that it has been interrupted. Enjoy your time together. We have hired another Agent in the meantime who will be working with Agent Lattimer.”

 

And with that, she swept from the room regally. Claudia lingered for a second, and Myka stepped forward and enfolded her in a hug.

 

“I’m sorry about the hospital, Claud. I guess I freaked out on you there, huh?”

 

Claudia smiled at her slyly.

 

“Yeah, well, I can see why, Mykes. She’s _hot!_ ” That last part was in a sort of stage-whisper that carried much further than any normal tone of voice would have. Helena and Myka both burst out in laughter.

 

“You’re damn right she is. Now get back to the Warehouse and keep an eye on Pete for me. Try not to let him burn it down while we’re gone, okay?”

 

Claudia hugged Myka again and smiled shyly at Helena, who stepped forward to shake hands with the young agent.

 

“Helena Wells, at your service. I’m very pleased to meet you, Claudia. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

 

Claudia looked about ready to swoon, so Myka shooed her out the door before she could drool on the furniture.

 

“See you in a month, Claud.”


	13. Chapter 13

Helena awoke to the smell of delicious food and the delicious feeling of being kissed by Myka Bering. She had no desire to wake up, but she supposed that if she had to, this was the best possible way to be woken up. She still resisted, however, until Myka resorted to tickling.

 

They enjoyed a wonderful breakfast together in bed, which felt terribly decadent to Helena, followed by an even more wonderful few hours spent exploring each other’s bodies once again. Helena had wondered when she woke whether she’d dreamed the last two days – the Imperceptor vest, MacPherson, the hospital – and Myka. But she was relieved beyond measure to realise that it had all happened, and that Myka loved her. And she was overjoyed when Myka insisted on proving it to her over and over again.

 

Mrs Frederic’s visit – via the front door this time – was a surprise. As was her offer for Helena to rejoin the Warehouse as an agent. Had she asked two days ago, Helena would have jumped at the chance. It was, after all, an essential part of her plan to gain access to Warehouse 2 and the Minoan Trident. However, she now wondered whether it was a good idea for her to return to the Warehouse at all. She might not have any nefarious plans at the present moment, but she didn’t know that she deserved Irene’s trust, or the Warehouse’s. Or Myka’s.

 

After Mrs Frederic and the hilarious Claudia had taken their leave, Myka turned to Helena and took her hands.

 

“All right. Spill.”

 

Helena was confused. Spill what? Had she spilled something? She looked around her but could see nothing. Thankfully, Myka picked up on her confusion.

 

“It means ‘tell me’. As in, spill your guts, I guess. Not the most pleasant expression now that I think of it. But what I’m saying is, tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

Helena thought for a moment before speaking.

 

“Do you remember when we talked about that day in the park?” Myka nodded, her eyes suddenly softening. Her thumbs brushed along Helena’s knuckles comfortingly.

 

“Well, for reasons I would prefer not to go into at this particular moment in time, I am not sure I am to be trusted in the Warehouse. And until I _am_ sure, I do not think my being reinstated as an agent is the best idea.”

 

Myka’s eyes searched hers, and she simply said, “Okay.”

 

Helena was incredulous.

 

“Okay? That’s all you have to say? I know I haven’t told you why, but I’ve just admitted that I am not to be trusted. Don’t you have anything to say to that?”

 

“I have plenty to say. Like, I love you. And I am proud of you. And I trust you, even if you don’t.” Myka smiled widely at the astonishment on Helena’s face.

 

“I am supposed to be the insane one, Myka. But I’m beginning to wonder if it’s you who needs help.” Helena shook her head in wonder.

 

Myka rolled her eyes.

 

“Helena, a few days ago, you would not have told me this. And given that you threw yourself in front of a bullet for me, and that you have trusted me enough to tell me that you don’t yet trust yourself, I think we’ve come a long way already. When you’re ready to tell me what’s going on in your head, I’m ready to listen. Because I think I understand, at least a little bit, how things could get a little crazy in there after over a century of alone time with grief and pain and suffering as your only companions.” She tapped on Helena’s skull lightly with one finger before pulling her in for a kiss that once again had Helena ruminating on the word ‘swoon’.

 

“I love you, Myka. What on earth did I do to deserve you?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing, HG Wells.”

 

*

 

Myka was not, and had never been, a person who was led by her emotions. She made decisions based on logic and aside from the one blip in her career that had been her affair with Sam Martino, had succeeded largely because of that detachment. But she found it impossible to be detached where Helena was concerned. Her feelings assailed her each time the woman looked in her direction. Each touch that they shared set her heart to pounding and her stomach clenched each time Helena ran her fingers through her perfectly black hair. She had loved Sam, had even considered marrying him, but compared to what she felt for Helena, it was a pale imitation. The days and weeks that followed educated Myka on the true power of her own emotions.

 

Sam came up a few times in her conversations with Helena, the most memorable of which was during a visit to a cafe in Soho, a place where they’d begun to spend a lot of time since that first night at Freedom.

 

“He really called you Bunny? Are you quite serious?” Helena’s mouth was open, her expression a mix of incredulous and disgusted.

 

Myka ducked her head in embarrassment.

 

“I know. I loved Sam. He was a good guy, for the most part. But the ‘Bunny’ thing, I could have done without. I think he called me ‘Slim’ too.”

 

Helena was looking at her as if she’d never seen her before.

 

“I find it difficult to reconcile the vision of you that sits in front of me with a woman who would allow herself to be called ‘Bunny’, I must say. Perhaps I should come up with a pet name for you.” She pursed her lips and tapped her index finger against them as she pretended to ponder that idea.

 

Myka punched her on the arm gently.

 

“Stop it. It’s not nice to poke fun, Helena.”

 

Helena looked contrite.

 

“I’m sorry, Myka. I just can’t imagine it. The way you...handle me sometimes,” (Myka’s stomach twisted at the way she said ‘handle’), “the way you take charge – I can’t see you in that way, allowing someone to call you a pet name that infantilises you. Bunny, indeed.”

 

Myka swallowed as she remembered the way Helena had felt against her as she carried her into the bedroom, the frantic kisses and touches they’d shared. Helena’s eyes took in the way Myka swallowed, and the look in her eye as she recalled their first time together, and she suddenly stood and leaned over Myka, whispering in her ear.

 

“I think I’d like you to carry me to bed again, Myka.”

 

This, too, was a very different experience for Myka. She’d had a few different sexual partners, and had enjoyed herself without shame with all of them, but she had been, for the most part, fairly passive in the bedroom, especially with Sam. With Helena things were different. Heightened. They couldn’t seem to keep from touching each other, and after their first time, more often than not, those touches led to making love in many and varied ways. Helena was extremely inventive, and enjoyed finding ways to get Myka hot and bothered, preferably in public where she couldn’t do anything about it. Myka, when frustrated, tended to behave rather...aggressively in the bedroom, a development that apparently delighted Helena endlessly. Myka was initially embarrassed when Helena pointed out her tendency to dominate in bedroom situations, but Helena had assured her that her take-charge attitude was one of the things that attracted her most about Myka. After giving it some thought, Myka mentally shrugged and went with her instincts thereafter.

 

The physical side of their relationship was a surprise to Myka, not only because of how incredible it was, but because of how emotionally intense it was. Each time they made love her feelings for Helena were reinforced, somehow. The intimacy of it was, at times, overwhelming. A few days after Mrs Frederic and Claudia visited, they had made love and afterwards, Myka was astonished to find her eyes brimming. Helena was devastated, thinking that she had hurt Myka, but Myka tried to explain through the tears that she was just overwhelmed, and that they were good tears.

 

“I must say that I don’t think I’ve ever reduced a lover to tears before. It’s rather disconcerting. I did once manage to kick one young gentleman in a rather delicate area while attempting an ambitious move I’d seen in a book. He did look rather teary eyed, come to think of it.” Helena pretended to look thoughtful, but her lips quirked.

 

Myka smiled, recognising that Helena was attempting to lighten the moment.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I just...I’ve never felt like this before about anyone. I didn’t know it could be like this.”

 

Helena stroked her hair softly. Her eyes were almost amber in the lamplight.

 

“I know. It’s quite something, isn’t it? I had never imagined that love could be quite so...intense. I suppose that must be what they mean by soulmates.”

 

She kissed Myka softly before gently biting her bottom lip.

 

“Ready to be overwhelmed again, darling?” Myka shivered at the desire in Helena’s tone.

 

*

 

The days began to run together for Helena. She had awoken as a vengeful ghost from another time, ready to destroy this world and everyone in it, but Myka Bering had brought her back to life, had given her something to live for, and her head was spinning as she tried to take in the immense changes that had taken place in just a few weeks. She was intensely, deeply in love with a woman she had only just met, who was apparently her soulmate, and all because a petty criminal called James MacPherson had wanted her to fit in to modern society so that she could be of service to him. After a century of grief and pain, her careful plans had dissolved in the instant in which James MacPherson had pointed a gun at Myka. She continued to be astonished that all of her scheming, all of her hatred, all of the rage and pain that had filled her for longer than most humans had been alive, could be derailed entirely by love. But her mad plans had begun because she had loved her daughter so much, so she supposed that she shouldn’t be so surprised.

 

She had kept her promise to Myka and had read a great deal about modern psychiatry and psychology, and the efficacy of the various treatments that were used to deal with maladies of the mind. She was quite impressed at the way that times had changed as far as mental illness was concerned. There was still quite the stigma about people who suffered with such illnesses, it appeared, in modern society, but treatments and attitudes in the medical community had changed rather radically.  No longer were women simply deemed hysterical. She decided that she would seek treatment of some kind as soon as they had finished their furlough. It might not help, but it was unlikely to hurt. And she needed to do this for Myka, who was her one and only tether to this new world. She was unaccountably secure in her relationship with Myka, despite its incredibly short length, because she could see the intensity of emotion that welled in her own heart reflected back to her in Myka’s eyes. She did not wish to risk this happiness.

 

She thought of Christina often, but it was a different kind of thought, now, than it had been while she was Bronzed. She thought less of her daughter’s death and more of the times when Christina had climbed up on her knee as she worked on one gadget or another, the way her little girl had kissed her solemnly and curled up on her lap. She thought of the peace that she had always felt when she looked at her sleeping child, the joy of watching her play, and the pride she had in her daughter’s keen mind. Myka would have loved Christina, she knew. And Christina would have loved Myka. That thought stuck with her as she negotiated this new world and this new relationship. Christina would have been happy for her, and glad that she had abandoned her plans to take revenge on this world for the sins of men long turned to bone and dust.  

 

That was not to say that she was not assailed by rage and pain as she saw news reports of war or murder, or when she witnessed the casual indifference of those around her. She and Myka spent time in various different places, cafes and restaurants and museums, and at times people were incredibly rude and unpleasant. And it sent Helena’s mind to those places she had inhabited in the dark in the Bronze, where the rage and hatred had grown and festered. But Myka’s touch, the clear green of her eyes, her strength – it brought her back. It was not enough, this love she had for Myka, to chase it all away, but it was enough to allow it to retreat enough so that she could breathe again.  It was enough to make her _want_ to fight it. What Myka had done to Helena by loving her was to make Helena want to live, for however long a time she was apportioned, by Myka’s side.

 

Their bond, whatever it was, grew quietly as they spent time together. Myka, as a modern woman, was everything Helena could have wished for in her time. She was fiercely independent, accomplished, educated, and free to do whatever she wished. Other women were not as lucky, Helena knew. But compared to the plight of women in Helena’s time, this modern world was a utopia. Helena did wonder at first if it was those things that had begun her interest in Myka, and if any other woman of this time would have affected her in the same way. But, she reasoned, she had met other women before she and Myka had come to blows in her old home, if for only short periods of time, and none had made her heart race and her breath still as Myka did from the moment she had woken up in the apartment they now shared. Even bruised and groggy, she had been strikingly beautiful. And her eyes, when turned upon Helena, seemed to catch at her heart and take possession of her in a way she could not explain away. This soulmate bond that they spoke of, this TiMERcorp, it was intense and beautiful and frightening all at once.  

 

What constantly astonished her about this new relationship was that they were not bored with one another. To be in one person’s company constantly for any prolonged period of time would have been inconceivable to Helena before she was Bronzed. Her mind leaped and raced constantly, and there were few, if any, around her who could follow those leaps. But Myka could, and did. They talked about all sorts of things, and Myka’s eidetic memory was fascinating to her. She literally remembered everything she’d seen. And as a result she almost always knew what Helena was talking about, no matter how obscure the subject matter, and she had spent time thinking about almost everything she’d read at one point or another. Her point of view was fresh and bold and she was often able to challenge even Helena’s not inconsiderable intellect.

 

Myka asked Helena one day to tell her about Christina, and Helena found that, to her own great surprise, she wanted to. She told Myka of the difficult confinement she’d endured. Medical science was not so advanced in those days, and the birth was unpleasant as a result. But as soon as Christina was placed in her arms, none of that mattered, for she was the most perfect creature that Helena had ever seen. Charles and her father had argued for days about her being pregnant, but Charles had finally won out. Helena was allowed to keep her darling girl. She told Myka of the joy that Christina had brought her, her every achievement a delight. She was sharply intelligent, sometimes too much, and at times Helena had despaired for her daughter’s future.

 

“She would have excelled, had she lived in this time. She was so intelligent. She would have loved you.”

 

Myka smiled at her, her eyes clear and compassionate. They were sitting on the same park bench where they’d argued that first week. This time there were no arguments. They’d held hands and walked in the beautiful park, Helena walking on the grass barefoot, before they settled here to drink tea from a flask and talk.

 

“I would have loved her too, I’m sure. Did she look a lot like you?”

 

“Yes, very much. Her eyes were darkest brown and her hair was as black as my own. I’m sure she would have been quite the beauty, had she lived to grow up.” Helena smiled at Myka, her eyes sad but without the intense rage that had overshadowed them before.

 

“If she looked anything like you, she would have had all the boys – and girls – beating a path to her door.” Myka grinned and lifted Helena’s hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly.

 

“You flatter me, Agent Bering.” Helena fluttered her eyelashes coyly.

 

“No, it’s not flattery if it’s true. You must know how incredibly stunning you are, Helena.” Myka lifted her eyebrow in disbelief.

 

“I do not think that you are in any position to be asking me that question, Myka, looking as you do. Words cannot quite capture how alluring you truly are.” Myka blushed.

 

“You know, you were right. You are an excellent flirt.”

 

Helena ran her fingers through her hair, enjoying the way Myka’s eyes followed the movement of her hand through her long tresses. She was rather vain about her hair, but it was her crowning glory, and she used it to tease Myka mercilessly, enjoying the way she swallowed and stuttered when Helena played with the strands or teased her fingers through it idly.

 

During their third week, Myka asked Helena if she was ready to talk about ‘it’ yet. Helena didn’t need to ask what ‘it’ was. They both knew that Helena had been driven to madness by Christina’s murder and her subsequent incarceration in the Bronze.

 

Helena sighed.

 

“To be perfectly honest, my darling, it is not so much whether I am ready to talk about it as it is that I am not sure you are ready to hear what I have to say.”

 

Myka furrowed her brow in that adorable way of hers, her eyes crinkling slightly.

 

“I understand, or at least I think I do, that your mind was damaged by everything that happened with Christina, with your time machine, and with the Bronze. I don’t think that what you have to say will surprise me, Helena. And whatever it was that went on in there, I know that I can trust you.

 

They were sitting close together on the sofa in the apartment, and Helena was playing with Myka’s hair, twining the curls around her fingers. Myka was leaning back against Helena’s side, with Helena’s arm wrapped around her.

 

“I know that you believe you understand, Myka. But I am ashamed of my thoughts, my plans. I can tell you truly that I am no threat to you, now, or to anyone – unless they try to hurt you. But I do not think I can tell you, for now, how far into the dark I had travelled. I hope you will give me time to gather my courage before I tell you.”

 

Myka twisted her head so that she was looking at Helena.

 

“Of course. But just remember, Helena. I know that you don’t entirely trust yourself. But I do. I have seen what you’re capable of. We all have good and bad in us. You could have left me to die and gone on to do whatever you had planned in that beautiful brain of yours. But you chose instead to save my life. The next time you feel ashamed, think of that.” Myka turned back and kissed Helena’s forearm where it rested on her chest.

 

Helena’s heart twisted within her at these words. Myka was such a revelation. She was good and pure and strong and she believed in Helena. It made her feel so guilty for what she had planned, but it also lifted her, made her think that perhaps she could be the person that Myka thought she was, could be worthy.

 

She kissed Myka’s hair, breathed in her scent, and closed her eyes in relief.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena confesses, their furlough ends and they go to Dakota

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you for all the kudos and comments, they mean a lot. This story is roughly at the halfway point now and will loosely follow events from the show's canon from here on. (Make that very loosely)

 

 

Their furlough, long as it was, was not long enough. It eventually came to the time when Myka felt they had to talk about their relationship and whether they wanted it to continue. She certainly did - as far as she was concerned, she was with Helena, whatever she wanted to do, and wherever she wanted to go. But she had to be sure before she threw her whole heart at this woman who she’d fallen so deeply in love with.

 

“Helena, can we talk?”

 

They were in bed, having just woken up, legs wrapped around one another in a way that had started Myka’s brain along lines that had less to do with love and more to do with lust. Helena looked at her groggily. They hadn’t slept much the night before, being rather preoccupied with one another, and Myka thought they might have slept for four or five hours, tops. But she’d woken up and (after the lustful thoughts, anyway) she suddenly thought that they had to have this talk, to stop the worry that was gnawing at her – the worry that Helena might not want what she did.

 

“Of course, Myka. What is it? Why do you look so worried?” She was concerned, and her hand came up to cup Myka’s jaw softly, her thumb stroking Myka’s cheek.

 

“I...I guess I need to know what you want, now that we’re nearly at the end of our furlough. Whether you want to stay with me, come to South Dakota. I think I sort of assumed, after everything, that you do...that you would want that, but then I thought about it, and I started to worry, because we haven’t actually talked about it, and now it’s nearly time...”  she trailed off uncertainly.

 

Helena moved her hand to Myka’s hair, soothing the curls there, scratching at her scalp.

 

“Myka, my love. You worry far too much. I told you that I do not think I should be reinstated as a Warehouse agent, or not yet, at least. But where you go, I go. It’s a rather sad state of affairs that I have no-one else in this time, as my family have all long since passed. But even if they were here, I would not leave you for anything short of the resurrection of my daughter, and then only to bring her, and myself, back to you. I love you.”

 

Myka’s eyes filled with tears. The relief that flooded her was painful in its intensity. This furlough had been incredible, but she still harboured doubts that she had the ability to maintain the interest of this woman, this legend.

 

Helena smiled, chuckling slightly at Myka’s obvious relief.

 

“What did you think I was going to say, Myka? The moment MacPherson pointed a gun at you, I realised how much I loved you, and I was all in. I am yours, and only yours.”

 

“Thank God,” Myka murmured, staring into Helena’s dark eyes, the eyes she had feared only a few short weeks ago.

 

“And I too, thank God, who I don’t believe in, that I met you. Because you have saved me, Myka. You have given me an anchor and a home and you have filled my heart with love, a heart that I thought could only hold rage and pain and grief. You brought me back to myself, Myka, and I shall be eternally grateful that I met you.”

 

Myka was crying in earnest, now, and Helena pulled her close, kissing her closed eyelids and murmuring, “I love you,” over and over.

 

It was later that day when Helena finally told her, eyes downcast, about what she had planned. They were sitting at the table opposite one another. She told Myka all of it - Warehouse 2, the Trident. The countless deaths, the mayhem, an Ice Age. Myka was smart enough not to allow the horror she felt to show on her face. The lengths that Helena had been prepared to go to, for the sake of vengeance, or grief, or madness – it was frightening. It was horrifying. Myka loved Helena, but this plan of hers was monstrous. Myka couldn’t understand how a person could get to that place in their mind. Depression, she understood, and grief. She understood the impulse to try and fix what was wrong with the world, because that’s part of why she joined the Secret Service. But to want to destroy it all – that part she couldn’t understand. How could destroying it all fix any of the problems that Helena saw in the world? Myka’s training helped her, however, to maintain a carefully blank face as she took in the details of what Helena had planned. Lizzie Borden’s compact, which was one of the things she had planned to retrieve from the Escher vault – her plan to send some students to find Warehouse 2, which could, very easily, have ended in their deaths. Helena was so incredibly intelligent and resourceful that if she had fully committed to this plan, she would have succeeded and everyone in the world would be dead or freezing to death. Myka harboured no illusions about that, just thanked the gods or the fates or the TiMER people that she and Helena had met instead, that they had fallen in love, and that Helena had rediscovered her humanity.

 

She thought carefully before she said anything, because she knew that Helena’s mind was fragile, now, after the admission of her plans and the evil she had wanted to commit.

 

“I am so sorry, Helena. I am so sorry that you lost Christina. I understand that something in you was broken when she died, and that everything that followed just made that worse. I don’t know that I or anyone else would have fared any better after enduring what you have and then being Bronzed for a century. I can’t say that I entirely understand it all, because what you wanted to do, it was...well, I guess you know what it was. But I am here, and I want to help. I will help you in whatever way I can to heal from this, from the things you’ve suffered. You told me earlier that you are all in. Well, so am I. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, and we will get through this together. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

 

Helena had collapsed in on herself slowly as Myka spoke, and was crying, weeping for the daughter she’d lost, and crying out her own shame at what she had planned. Myka went to her and pulled her close, Helena’s head against her abdomen. This delicate creature who she loved so dearly, and who was so very badly damaged, cried in her arms for what felt like hours.

 

That day was a turning point for both of them. They were, as Helena had said (and Myka did wonder where she’d picked up that phrase) all in. A few days later, it was time to go. They caught a flight from Heathrow and once they had settled at a steady altitude and Helena had calmed down – she was alternating between exhilarated and terrified, having only travelled by plane once before, to reach London – they talked more about the TiMER and Helena’s suspicions that an artefact might be behind it all. Myka was starting to agree with her.

 

“You know, I have been thinking about the TiMER. I got mine about a year ago, when you were still in the Bronze sector. Now, I can accept that they might be able to predict when a couple will meet based on having all the information that they do about everyone, but only if each member of that couple has already decided to go to a certain place at a certain time. But how could they possibly know, a year in advance, that I was going to meet you? A long dead, male science fiction writer who was actually female and in suspended animation in the Bronze sector of the Warehouse? Nobody in the Warehouse apart from Mrs Frederic even knew you were there. I don’t buy any of that for a second. Their algorithms and all that – they are legitimate and I believe that they work to predict compatibility, but something about this whole business doesn’t ring true.”

 

Helena’s face had fallen somewhere in the middle of her speech, and Myka hastened to explain herself, grabbing Helena’s hand.

 

“Oh, no, honey, I don’t mean that I don’t believe we are a match, or soulmates, or whatever. That part I believe very strongly. What I don’t believe is that algorithms are the reason this thing works. It has to be an artefact. And since artefacts have downsides, I think it should be something we look into, don’t you?”

 

Helena breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

“Thank God. I thought you were going to tell me you thought we were under the effects of an artefact – what is it you say, that you’ve been “whammied”?”

 

Myka smiled. “Yes, that’s the word we use. And while I will admit that what I feel for you is incredibly intense, I don’t believe that it’s the effect of an artefact. I believe that we’re meant to be together. Call it chemistry, call it destiny – whatever you like.” She leaned across in her seat to kiss Helena softly, ignoring the glares of the old woman in the seat across the aisle from them.

 

“I love you, Myka.”

 

“I love you too, HG Wells.”

 

“Are you ever going to get sick of that?”

 

Myka grinned. “Hell, no!”

 

*

 

They reached Sioux Falls approximately 15 hours later after a delay in their connecting flight. Pete had arranged for a rental car to be waiting for them, so Myka drove them back to the B&B. She was exhausted and it was a long drive, so she asked Helena if she minded if they stopped for some food and lots of coffee. They pulled over at a roadside diner, and Helena decided to talk to Myka about some of her fears.

 

“Your friend Peter, he seems very lovely, as does your Claudia, but I can’t help thinking that I didn’t make the best impression on them, given that he met me because I knocked you unconscious, and she first saw me standing over a dead man, covered in his blood. I am worried that they will think me evil and twisted, and not worthy of you.”

 

She made this confession while staring into her cup of tea. Myka’s gentle fingers tilted her head up to meet her eyes.

 

“You are not evil, Helena. You are not twisted. And you are most definitely worthy of me. You have brought me more joy in these last few weeks than I have ever felt in my whole life. You stepped in front of a bullet for me. If that’s what you’re like when you’re not worthy of me, what else do you suppose you need to do? You could have died. You _would_ have died if Mrs Frederic hadn’t intervened. So you can stop that crap right now. I trust you, and I love you. And as for knocking me out, I think we can let that one slide since you saved my life less than a week later. And MacPherson – I would have killed him myself if he’d tried to hurt you, so unless you think I’m twisted and evil too, I think you’re pretty safe. Claudia and Pete will love you as much as I do.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then amended that to, “Almost as much as I do, anyway. Artie, well, he’s going to be a different proposition. Firstly, because he doesn’t like anyone, and secondly because MacPherson was his partner at one time, and you killed him. I know he will agree that you did the right thing, but he will probably still be hurting because MacPherson was his friend once. So don’t let him get to you. He’s a good man at heart, just kind of rude.”

 

Helena breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Are there others there, at the Warehouse?”

 

Myka thought for a moment as she chewed on a mouthful of salad.

 

“Artie said they hired someone to cover me, but he didn’t say who, so I can’t help you there. There are the Regents, but they don’t like anyone or trust anyone as far as I can tell, so I wouldn’t pay them much attention. And then there’s Leena, who you’ve met. I don’t know the whole story though, but I assume she was under the influence of an artefact when she unBronzed you. She owns the B&B where we all stay. She’s wonderful. I would be very, very surprised if you didn’t get on with her. She sees people’s auras, I don’t really get it, but she’s always so calm and serene, it’s really peaceful to be around her.”

 

Helena smiled, relieved. It sounded as if Arthur was going to be unpleasant, but the rest of Myka’s colleagues and friends should be pleasant and polite, at least. She hoped that they might even grow to like her. But first she had to deal with the small issue of her madness, her time in the Bronze, her grief. She had to mend what was broken in her, to be good enough, to be worthy of Myka’s love.

 

They finished their food in comfortable silence, Myka drinking coffee as if it was going out of fashion. Helena raised an eyebrow when she also asked for a cup to go.

 

“What?” Myka asked defensively. “It’s a long drive! We’re going to have to teach you how to drive, honey. Because I’m not always going to be the designated driver.”

 

“I like the sound of that ‘always’, Myka.” Helena linked their arms together as they walked back to the car.

 

“Me too.” Myka kissed Helena’s temple.

 

They reached the B&B a while later – how much later, Helena couldn’t say, as she’d slept since shortly after they left the diner. Myka had mock-glared at her when she woke up, for leaving her alone, but it had soon morphed into a silly smile, and Helena gathered that she wasn’t in too much trouble after all. When they pulled up beside the other cars that were parked outside the B&B, Helena felt the beginnings of panic. It was late, and it was likely that most of the inhabitants of the B&B would be asleep, but she was still unprepared to meet these people who meant so much to Myka. She took a deep breath, and Myka took her hand, running her thumb across Helena’s palm soothingly.

 

“It’ll be okay, Helena. Don’t panic. I love you.”

 

Helena looked at her gratefully.

 

“I love you too, Myka.”

 

Myka grabbed her bags and Helena’s small suitcase, provided to her by TiMERcorp, since she didn’t actually have many belongings. There were a few things she had retrieved from the London museum before she had run into Myka and Pete, but other than that, there were only a few items of clothing that she had appropriated from the furlough apartment. They had been provided for her, she reasoned, and Myka hadn’t had any objections. She resolved to find somewhere to buy clothing and other items as soon as possible, so that she would not feel quite so...temporary, here, where Myka lived.

 

Myka opened the door and deposited their bags just inside, and she took Helena’s hand and drew her inside just as Leena emerged from a nearby room.

 

“Myka! Welcome home!” She drew Myka into a hug, and then turned to Helena.

 

“And you must be Helena. I guess we’ve met already, but I wasn’t exactly myself then. I’m sorry. I am really pleased to meet you.”

 

Helena automatically smiled back, uncertain of how to respond. She inclined her head and thanked Leena, but she noticed that Leena had tilted her head and was peering...through and around her, somehow?

 

“Are you seeing my...aura, is it? What do you see, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

Leena looked at her directly and smiled.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I can’t help but see it, and yours is...well, it’s interesting.”

 

Helena narrowed her eyes slightly.

 

“How so? What do you see?”

 

Leena looked from her to Myka, again seeming to be looking through and around them more than at them.

 

“It’s hard to explain. Your aura is so entwined with Myka’s, it’s hard to distinguish between the two. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s similar to the other couples I’ve seen who have matched using a TiMER, but more intense, somehow. I can see reds and blacks in yours that tell me you have experienced a lot of pain – that you’re still in pain, but somehow the mixture of your aura and Myka’s is holding it back, making it less. But I don’t know you, so in time I might be able to read it better.”

 

Leena smiled broadly, and somehow Helena felt better. It was disconcerting that this woman could read parts of her that she preferred to keep hidden, but she was heartened to hear that her link with Myka was so visible. She still couldn’t quite believe that Myka loved her, that she could still love her even after Helena told her about her plans.

 

Leena spoke again, smiling.

 

“Your auras are so beautiful. It makes me happy just to look at them.” She turned to Myka. “I’m so pleased you found someone, Myka. You deserve to be happy.” She pulled Myka into another hug, and Helena was surprised to see Myka wiping tears from her eyes as she stood back.

 

“Now, can I get you some tea?”

 

Helena’s sigh of relief made them all laugh.

 

The rest of the inhabitants of the B&B were asleep, thankfully, so after a cup of tea, with another to take upstairs with them (Myka had grinned at that) they made their way to Myka’s room. Leena had asked if they wanted her to get another room ready, with a sly smile on her face, and Myka had flushed a little and said, “No, I think Helena will be staying with me, if that’s okay with her.” Helena simply smiled and murmured her assent, and she and Leena shared a look of amusement at Myka’s embarrassment.

 

Helena was too tired even to explore Myka’s room, although she was curious as to how her lover lived, in this arrangement with so many other adults. Myka pointed her to the bathroom and she changed and performed her ablutions. She returned to Myka’s room and flopped in a very undignified fashion onto the bed.

 

Myka was changing into a loose fitting pair of pyjamas. She turned and grinned at Helena.

 

“A little tired, are we?”

 

“I’ll say. I can’t believe how long our journey was, it was exhausting.” Helena covered her eyes with one hand dramatically.

 

“Poor little Victorian lady. Are you ready to swoon?” Myka sat down beside her on the bed, smiling slyly.

 

“When you are around, my dearest Myka, I am always ready to swoon.”

 

Myka laughed.

 

“You say the sweetest things, Ms Wells.” She leaned over, placing a hand on either side of Helena and bending a little to kiss her softly.

 

“It’s not my fault you’ve turned me into a hopeless romantic, Myka Bering.”

 

Myka raised an eyebrow.

 

“Now that I know is a lie. You were always a romantic. I read your books, remember?”

 

Helena huffed.

 

“That’s not fair, Myka. It’s as if you have read all my diaries!”

 

Myka kissed her pouting lower lip.

 

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s not my fault you’re a legendary time traveller and author from Victorian England. That’s all on you.”

 

She kissed Helena again, lingering a little more this time, and they wordlessly moved under the covers. Myka switched off the lamp absently, and they didn’t speak again until the morning, except in soft sighs and gasps.

 

*

 

The next morning they rose early and shuffled down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Pete was hogging the bathroom as normal. Claudia was eating a big bowl of some sort of cereal, something with lots of sugar, probably. Myka was amused to see her eyes widen in awe as she took in Helena, looking elegant as always, even in a pair of too-long flannel pyjamas. Leena was bustling around and insisted on making them some scrambled eggs and toasted muffins, to “prepare them for the day”. She smiled apologetically at Myka as she said that, and Myka inwardly sighed as she took in the implications of that look. Artie was going to be awful, she just knew it. And Helena was so fragile. Myka took Helena’s hand where it sat on the table, playing with her fingers worriedly as they drank their coffee and tea and waited for Leena to serve up breakfast.

 

“What is it, Myka?” Helena asked, tilting her head slightly. Myka tried to pretend everything was fine, but Helena simply waited with one eyebrow raised until she gave in.

 

“All right. I’m a little nervous about Artie and how he’s going to be with you. I don’t want him upsetting you.”

 

Helena smiled as Claudia emitted another tiny squeak like she had all those weeks ago in their furlough apartment. Leena giggled, squeezing Claudia’s shoulder gently as the younger woman turned a brilliant shade of red and choked slightly on her cereal.

 

“Thank you, my love. I appreciate your care of me. I assure you, however, that I am mentally well prepared for the onslaught of any unpleasantness from your Arthur. I can only be honest and hope that he will understand eventually and come to tolerate me, despite me having killed Mr MacPherson. I can only hope that my love for you will shine through enough that he will grow to trust me.”

 

Claudia sighed, leaning forward with her chin resting on her clasped hands as she watched Helena and Myka avidly. Leena had turned away, her shoulders shaking as she tried valiantly to hide her amusement. Myka relaxed a little as she saw that Helena was quite sincere.

 

“I hope you’re right, honey.”

 

Helena squeezed her hand softly, a sly grin growing on her face as Claudia sighed once again. Myka smiled back.

 

“You okay over there, Leena?”

 

“Sure, of course!” came the rather choked reply. Leena stayed with her back to them, busying herself with the dishes in the sink. Claudia looked at each of them in turn, puzzled.

 

“What? Why are you all laughing? Guys? Guys?”


	15. Chapter 15

After Pete had finally vacated the bathroom, the ladies were able to get washed and dressed and they travelled together, including Leena, to the Warehouse. She had some work to do there, she said, so Myka ended up squished in the back of Pete’s car with Leena and Claudia because Pete insisted on his ‘best bud’ riding shotgun again. Myka’s legs were aching from being confined in the back seat, but she was pleased that Pete was making an effort with Helena. She knew it was mostly because Helena had saved her life, but part of it was Pete’s way of telling Myka that he supported her and her new soulmate. She was grateful. She was pretty sure Artie wouldn’t bother with any such effort.

 

She was right. Artie was brusque with her, as usual, but with Helena he was downright rude, pointedly not shaking the hand she offered and glaring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Claudia introduced their new agent, who had gone to the Warehouse a few hours earlier to meditate, apparently. His name was Steve Jinks. He was tall with close shaved reddish hair and bright blue eyes. Myka liked him immediately. He had an easy smile and a calm demeanour that reminded her of Leena. Claudia obviously loved him. She was bouncing around on her toes as she told them that he could always tell when someone was lying, like he was a human lie detector.

 

“That must come in handy in law enforcement,” Myka said, studying him carefully.

 

“Yeah, it does. It’s not so good in real life, though. Can be embarrassing.” He smiled softly.

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

 

“Well, for example, if someone says something as simple as ‘It’s nice to meet you’ and they don’t mean it, it makes me really uncomfortable. And I’ve had a few relationships that have ended because they have lied to me – it doesn’t even have to be about something serious, but even little white lies – I can’t not notice, you know?”

 

Myka thought about that for a moment.

 

“I think I get it, yeah. Might be a bit inconvenient I guess.”

 

Steve smiled wryly. “A bit, yeah.”

 

Artie suddenly stepped forward and pulled Steve to one side rudely, interrupting their conversation. Myka sighed. This was going to be fun, obviously. Helena stepped a little closer to her and took her hand, caressing her fingers with a thumb.

 

“It will be all right, Myka, I promise. We will deal with this together. I love you.”  She placed a soft kiss on Myka’s temple. Claudia squawked loudly from the other side of the office, and Leena cracked up laughing again.

 

Artie clapped his hands loudly for everyone’s attention.

 

“Everyone sit down. Now, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to ask _that woman_ some questions and Steve here will tell me if she’s lying. I will not allow any threats to _my_ Warehouse.” He pointed a finger at Helena, and then to a chair in the middle of the office.  

 

“You – sit!”

 

Myka automatically began to protest.

 

“Artie, you can’t interrogate her like a prisoner! Mrs Frederic asked her to become an agent again! She hasn’t done anything wrong!” She didn’t usually argue with Artie, but this was her soulmate. Helena meant everything to her.

 

Helena held up one hand, smiling gently.

 

“Myka, please. It’s fine. I will answer whatever questions Arthur has. But let’s make it interesting, shall we? Steven, if you don’t mind, I would like to test your abilities for my own curiosity. Would that be acceptable to you?”

 

Steve, who was standing behind Artie and looking extremely uncomfortable, nodded.

 

Claudia, Pete and Leena were standing close to one another and whispering. Myka decided to pay them no attention – all of her focus was on the situation unfolding in front of her. What was Helena doing? Why would she agree to this?

 

Helena turned to her.

 

“Love, if I am to be part of this team, part of your life, then your colleagues – your friends – must trust me. I have nothing to hide from them. And if Steve can truly determine my honesty, then that’s all the better. Don’t worry.”

 

Myka almost laughed. Don’t worry? Her soulmate might have to tell all of these people that she had until a few weeks ago been insane enough to end the world. That was not going to go down well. But Helena looked calm and confident. Myka hoped she knew what she was doing.

 

Helena took the seat Artie had indicated.

 

“A few test questions, to start?” She asked Steve, who just nodded again, looking incredibly unhappy with the situation he found himself in.

 

Artie huffed, but began with a simple question.

 

“What is your name?”

 

“Helena Grace Wells.”

 

Artie looked at Steve, who said, “Lie.”

 

“Aha! So who are you really?!” Artie looked gleeful.

 

Helena gave him a withering look.

 

“Helena George Wells.”

 

Steve nodded.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“About 147 years, including my time in the Bronze Sector. Biologically speaking, I believe I am 33.”

 

Steve nodded again.

 

“What was your occupation before you were Bronzed?”

 

“I was an author, an inventor, and an agent of Warehouse 12.” Another nod.

 

Pete gaped at that – clearly he hadn’t read any of Helena’s files. Myka wasn’t surprised.

 

“Why were you Bronzed?”

 

Myka blanched.

 

“I asked to be.” That was all Helena said, and she raised an eyebrow at Steve.

 

“It’s the truth, but it’s not the whole truth.”

 

Helena smiled. “Well, you asked a specific question, and I answered it. So I can omit, but not outright lie? Interesting.”

 

Myka inwardly groaned. Helena was not making this easy. Helena continued.

 

“All right, let’s begin properly, in that case. Arthur, in answer to your question, my daughter, Christina, was murdered during a robbery in Paris. I built a time machine to try to save her. The time machine worked to move my consciousness into the body of my daughter’s nanny on the day of Christina’s murder, but I was unable to change the events that transpired that day. Witnessing her death sent me into a spiral of grief and rage. I tortured and then murdered her killers.” There were a series of gasps around the room. “In my desperation I tried some other experiments using artefacts, trying to bring my daughter back to life. During the last experiment there was an accident, and my colleague and friend was killed. The Regents gave me several choices after that, and I chose to be Bronzed in the hope that I might wake up in a better time.”

 

Steve had paled during her matter of fact recounting of her tale, and he nodded slowly, in horror both at what she’d been through and what she’d done as a result. Artie looked vindicated by her confessions. He jumped to his feet, pointing at Helena again.

 

“I knew you weren’t to be trusted! I am going to make sure you are re-Bronzed, you murderer!”

 

Something snapped in Myka at Artie’s words. Her soulmate, the woman who had literally taken a bullet for her, was being attacked. She would not tolerate it, not even from the man who she’d come to regard as a second father. Myka stepped between him and Helena, her teeth gritted.

 

“You will have to Bronze me too, then, Artie.”

 

She was incredibly moved when Claudia, Pete, Leena and even Steve came to stand beside Helena.

 

“And me.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“And me.”

 

“All of us.” That was Pete. He had his hand on Helena’s shoulder, squeezing softly. She smiled up at him with tears in her eyes.  

 

“You’re wrong about Helena, Artie.” Myka began. “She has been through more than you or I could ever imagine, and she is still standing. She has done some things she shouldn’t have along the way, but who hasn’t? You are allowing your grief for James MacPherson to blind you. Helena killed him to save my life, and she would have died for me. She took a bullet that he fired at me, Artie. He might have been a good man at one point, but he definitely wasn’t at the end. She would have sacrificed her life for me. Maybe you would prefer that she’d let me die and let MacPherson go? No? And do you really think that someone who is _my_ soulmate would be evil?” He shook his head again at that, beginning to look chastened, and Myka continued. “Then please, Artie, get your head out of your ass! She could be a real asset to the Warehouse. She’s HG Wells. Who knows what information she has in her brain that could help us? And more than that, she’s my soulmate. So if you want me to continue working here, you better start treating her with respect. Because I’m not going to allow you to speak to her the way you just did, not ever again.”

 

You could practically have heard a pin drop. The jaws of everyone in the room _had_ dropped, save Myka’s. She was trying very hard to maintain her resolute expression and not gasp in horror at what she’d just said to Artie. She’d always tried to impress him, make him approve of her. And now she’d gone off on him like this – what the hell had gotten into her? Then she felt the hand in hers move a little and she thought – Helena. Helena had changed everything. Myka’s expression hardened a little more as she looked at Artie, whose eyes were wide in shock. She raised an eyebrow at him coolly. He gaped like a landed fish for a moment, and then stormed off into the Warehouse, waving his arms and muttering about “that woman” and her “agenda”. Myka sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

 

“Well, that went well!” Helena said, brightly. There was a moment of silence and then a hysterical giggle burst out of Myka, surprising her and everyone else, it appeared. There was another beat and then the whole room erupted in laughter.

 

“Get your head out of your ass?!” Claudia said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I thought his head was going to pop when you said that, man. Serious props for giving Artemis a piece of your mind, Myka.”

 

“Yeah, Mykes. You really stood up for your girl. I’m proud of you.” Pete kissed her on the cheek and then did the same to Helena, who looked a little stunned and also touched.

 

Myka looked round at them all, her family – new and old, and smiled.

 

“I really owe you guys one. You stood up for me – for us – and you don’t even know Helena. Especially you, Steve. You don’t even know _me_! Thank you.”

 

Steve reddened slightly, and he ran his hand distractedly over his shaved scalp.

 

“I don’t know you personally, Myka, but these guys are amazing. Claudia doesn’t strike me as someone who gives her loyalty easily, and she loves you. And Artie was being really unfair. What Helena did back then wasn’t good, not by a long way, but she saved your life, and this MacPherson guy sounds like all kinds of bad news. She doesn’t belong in the Bronze sector, and I will say that to anyone who wants to listen.” He smiled at them softly.

 

Myka went over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Thank you, Steve.” His cheeks were crimson.

 

Helena cleared her throat.

 

“So, now we’ve sorted all that out, shall we have some fun? Steve, you can be our lie detector, and you three,” she indicated Leena, Pete and Claudia, “you can bet on whether I’m telling the truth or not. What do you think?”

 

“Hell yeah!” said Claudia. Myka suddenly realised that they’d already been betting on Helena’s answers before Artie had gone off. Myka groaned slightly as she realised that whatever Helena was going to say was very likely to be outrageous at best and embarrassing at worst. She was right.

 

“I seduced the daughter of the Prime Minister and nearly got incarcerated in the Tower of London.” Myka hid her face in her hands.

 

“True.”

 

Claudia won that one.

 

“I tried to seduce Oscar Wilde, but he turned me down.”

 

Steve grinned before answering that one, for some reason.

 

“True.”

 

Claudia won again, and Pete groaned. “I was sure she was making that one up!”

 

“I investigated the artefact-related death of one person in Paris after the chandelier in the Palais Garnier opera house in Paris fell on the crowd. I was kidnapped by a young man in a mask who took me under the opera house in a boat. He wore a white mask. He was being affected by the mask, which was an artefact. His name was Gaston Leroux.” She had a sly smile on her face. Myka wished she’d got in on the betting, because she was willing to bet this one was a lie. She should never have let Helena read the Phantom of the Opera.

 

“Lie.”

 

Aha! She would have made a fortune...damn.

 

“Queen Victoria left lesbians out of the law on homosexuality in England because she fancied me.”

 

No way that’s true, Myka thought smugly.

 

“True.”

 

Dear God, Myka felt like she was going to die. Her face was on fire. How could Helena tell people this stuff with a straight face? And Queen Victoria? Seriously? The woman must have been a hundred!

 

“I attended the first performance of La Boheme by Puccini in Turin in 1896.”

 

“True.”

 

And so it went on. Some were truth, some were lies, but they were all pretty incredible. Myka was alternating between embarrassed and turned on by the things that Helena had done and who she’d met. Eventually they all tired of the game, and that’s when Mrs Frederic arrived from behind Myka, who nearly had a heart attack when she heard that voice behind her from the previously empty section of the office.

 

“Agent Wells. Agent Bering. Might I have a moment?”

 

The others quickly made excuses about inventory duty and disappeared. Myka sat down next to Helena, who looked relaxed and happy after her bonding session with Myka’s colleagues.

 

“Hi, Mrs Frederic,” Myka said.

 

“Good morning, Agent Bering, Agent Wells. Are you both well?”

 

“Just dandy, Mrs Frederic,” Helena said, dryly.

 

“Fine, thank you,” said Myka.

 

“I’ve come to speak to you about the matters we touched upon when we last met. About acclimatising you to being here, and giving you any help you need. Have you given the matter any thought?” Mrs Frederic looked at them both, her face unreadable as usual, but her eyes were soft and concerned as she took in Helena’s suddenly rigid posture. Myka took Helena’s hand in both of hers and squeezed it softly.

 

Helena’s eyes were downcast.

 

“I have given it a great deal of thought, Mrs Frederic. Myka has been wonderful in helping me so far, but I believe – we both believe - that I might need some more...professional help. Is it possible that there might be someone you can recommend?”

 

Mrs Frederic surprised them both by leaning forward and taking Helena’s other hand.

 

“Nothing would please me more, Helena.”

 

Helena looked up in surprise, a wary look on her face.

 

“I know that we have a complicated history, Helena, but I want nothing more than for you to be happy. You deserve it. With that in mind, I want to give you this.”

 

She handed Helena a locket. Helena looked stunned.

 

“Thank you, Irene,” was all she could manage.

 

“I have a wonderful woman in mind for your therapy. I will send word of when you can meet.”

 

“There is something else, Irene.” Helena spoke quietly, almost inaudibly.

 

“Go on, Helena.”

 

Helena told her everything, about her plan with the Trident. She left nothing out. Myka was unsure of how much of a good idea this was. But Mrs Frederic’s eyes were still soft, and she was still holding on to Helena’s hand as she confessed what she was going to do.

 

Eventually Helena finished, the words coming out of her in a rush.

 

Mrs Frederic paused for a moment, and then said, “Thank you for telling me that, Helena. I know it must have been difficult for you. It is a credit to the strength of your relationship with Agent Bering that you were able to tell me this. And I also know that it is thanks to your love for Agent Bering that this, in fact, did not come to pass. You know, of course, that I will have to tell the Regents of what you had planned.”

 

Helena nodded her head sadly.

 

“But I am on your side, Helena. And unlike the first time I said that to you, I have the power to back it up. It is most likely that they will wish to speak to you. What I will suggest is that they interview you in the presence of Agent Jinks, so that they are aware that you are telling the truth when you say you have no ill intentions. It will be difficult, Helena, and they are likely to be unpleasant and some, like Artie, will press for you to be punished. But my promise to you stands. And your fellow agents stand with you. You will not be punished in any way for what happened to you as a result of grief and what I suspect is a rather hefty dose of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I promise you. If I am wrong, I will go into the Bronze with you. I suspect I will have to line up behind the rest of the agents on this team for the honour, however.” She smiled. Helena looked at her and nodded.

 

“Thank you, Irene,” she murmured. “I don’t believe I deserve your trust after all this, but I am grateful nonetheless.”

 

“You deserve my trust, Helena, because you have earned it. As Agent Bering will no doubt agree. If you still harboured ill intentions, you would have allowed James MacPherson to kill Agent Bering. And we both know you couldn’t have stood by and let her die.” She squeezed Helena’s hand once more and stood.

 

“Go and join your fellow agents. I am going to speak to Arthur. What happened this morning will not happen again.” And with that, she left the office.

 

Myka sank to her knees on the floor beside Helena and wrapped her arms around her as she sat on the chair in the middle of the room.

 

“I’m so proud of you, honey. Warn me next time you’re gonna do something like that, though, okay?” Helena laughed against Myka’s shoulder.

 

“I couldn’t very well not tell her after she gave me this, could it?” She indicated her locket. Myka wordlessly fastened it around Helena’s neck, taking a second to kiss her just under her ear. She pulled herself away with difficulty.

 

They joined the others, and Myka and Claudia showed Helena around the Warehouse. Claudia wandered off at one point, and Helena took the opportunity to kiss Myka softly, and say, “I love you.”

 

“What was that for?” Myka asked, a little breathless. Even though the kiss had been soft and gentle and sweet, Helena still had that effect on her. Helena was looking at her with something very much like reverence in her gaze.

 

“Because I am here, in this place, with you. Because of you. You are the endless wonder, here. These artefacts do not even compare to what you are to me. You have brought life and happiness where there was only death and rage and grief. Thank you, Myka.”

 

Myka tried very hard not to cry, she really did. But where Helena was concerned, her vaunted self-control was useless. Tears spilled out and she reached for Helena, drew her close, and kissed her, tears still rolling down her cheeks. “I love you,” they whispered, over and over, foreheads touching and arms wrapped around one another.

 

Myka was surrounded by Helena, the soft scent of her, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her strong muscles underneath her shirt, the warmth of the body holding hers, the soft strands of her hair between Myka’s fingers. After a moment, Helena drew back, looking up.

 

“Can you smell that, Myka?”

 

“Smell what?”

 

“Apples. I smell apples.”

 

Myka smiled. “I always smell apples when I’m with you. Your perfume smells like apples, Helena.”

 

Helena looked puzzled. “I don’t wear perfume, Myka.” 

 

“Hmm. That’s strange.” But Helena just smiled, mouthing, “Thank you,” to no-one in particular, it seemed, and drew Myka close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the thing about Queen Victoria and the law on homosexuality is a bit of a myth masquerading as historical fact, but it struck me that if the old bat did meet this HG Wells she'd be tempted, because who wouldn't be? Also I thought that Helena would be the type of person to test Steve's lie detector ability just because she is...well, her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena meets Abigail Cho, and Mrs Frederic pays Myka a visit

They went back to the B&B after a while with Leena. She had finished her business at the Warehouse and Helena wasn’t really an agent, not yet anyway, so they went back together and Leena went off to make some tea. Helena and Myka made their way to the library. Helena, after spending some time browsing, picked up a Ray Bradbury novel and sat down to lose herself in it. Myka slyly picked up, “The Invisible Man,” and read it for a few minutes, sitting next to Helena, before Helena noticed and said, “Oh, very funny. Make fun of the father of science fiction, will you?” Myka laughed, and Helena gave her a mock glare before giving in because Myka had begun kissing her neck, just under her jaw. They were interrupted by Leena bringing in some tea, and Myka blushed for a solid half hour afterwards because Helena had managed to open her shirt without her noticing, and Leena had passed them their tea and cookies with a straight face and hadn’t said a word about Myka’s bra being clearly visible. They could both hear the sniggers from the kitchen afterwards, however.

 

The following morning Leena approached them both after breakfast and told Helena that Mrs Frederic had arranged for her to see a therapist in Featherhead. She was called Abigail Cho and she came highly recommended. She was cleared for Warehouse business, so Helena could tell her anything and everything. Leena gave them the address and Myka told Helena she would drive her there, and they could have some lunch together afterwards.

 

It was a long drive, and the appointment was at midday, so they left quickly and made the long journey in virtual silence. Myka had already asked Helena three times if she was all right, and on the fourth occasion Helena gave her a pointed stare that made her fall silent.

 

They reached the address that Leena had provided. It was a large stone house in a leafy area of the suburbs. Myka pulled the car over and turned to look at Helena.  Helena was sitting stiffly, her eyes downcast, her hands twisting. It reminded Myka of that night at the opera, watching those hands twist, and her heart with them.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, in a soft voice.

 

Helena didn’t look up. Her hands were trembling.

 

Myka took those hands in hers, kissed them softly. Helena looked at her, her posture rigid and her eyes pleading.

 

“What do you think is going to happen, Helena? You’re going to go in there and talk to someone for an hour, that’s all. I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen.”

 

“I’m so bloody frightened, Myka. What if she convinces the Regents that I need to be Bronzed again? I can’t do it again, Myka. I can’t.”

 

Myka laughed. Helena looked incredibly affronted for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow, inviting Myka to explain.

 

“You’re not going to get Bronzed, sweetie. If this Abigail somehow thinks that’s the way to go, then she’s clearly not very good at her job. She’s here to treat you, Helena. To help heal your mind. Do you think that anyone in their right mind would think that the way to heal someone is to lock them in solitary confinement, in sensory deprivation?” Helena shook her head curtly, still not over the laughter, it appeared.

 

“Okay, so, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You and she will talk about your thoughts and feelings, and she might arrange for you to take medication of some kind. And in an hour I will be here to pick you up and we’ll have lunch. That is all that’s going to happen, okay?” She tipped Helena’s head up with a finger on her chin and kissed her sullen, pouting face.

 

“I love you, Helena George Wells, and if anyone Bronzes you, they will be doing so while you wear your Myka scarf. So stop your worrying. We’re in this together, okay?”

 

Helena huffed out a small laugh.

 

“That’s more like it. Come on.” Myka got out of the car and went round to Helena’s side, opening her door and holding out a hand to help her out. Helena took it with a small sigh – relief, annoyance? Myka wasn’t sure, but she led the woman she loved to the door and knocked, watching as Helena took several deep breaths.

 

The woman who came to answer the door was lovely, both physically and in personality. She was smaller than Myka, but then most women were. Her eyes reminded Myka of Mrs Frederic, somehow.

 

“Hello. I’m Abigail Cho. And you must be Helena.” Helena was still standing stiffly, clutching Myka’s hand. Abigail looked at her uncertainly for a moment, and then greeted Myka.

 

“You must be Agent Bering. It’s nice to meet you.”  Myka reached over and shook the hand that Abigail held out. Abigail looked from Myka to Helena and back.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Myka looked carefully at Helena, who seemed to have shut down, almost.

 

“You know that Helena was in the Bronze sector for over a century, don’t you?” Abigail nodded.

 

Myka continued.

 

“I think – no, I know that she’s afraid you’re going to recommend that she be returned there. She has no reason to trust the Regents and the state of mental health treatment in the 1800s wasn’t exactly great.” Abigail nodded in understanding and turned her gaze to Helena.

 

“Helena, you don’t have to do this. But I am not here to have you Bronzed or anything of the sort. I am here to help you, to allow you to talk about your life and your feelings if you want to. That’s all. This Bronze sector is, as far as I’m concerned, the most inhumane thing I’ve ever heard of. We don’t even leave serial killers in solitary confinement for that long. It’s disgusting what they did to you. So don’t worry that I’m going to send you back there. Even if I had the authority to, I would never do that, to you or to anyone. Okay?” She finally managed to catch Helena’s eye. Helena nodded.

 

Myka leaned over and kissed Helena’s temple, gave her a brief hug.

 

“What time should I come back, Abigail?”

 

“About an hour for a first session. We’re just going to have some tea and a chat, nothing to worry about, Helena. I promise.”

 

Myka breathed a sigh of relief at Abigail’s quiet, caring manner. This was exactly what Helena needed right now – someone reassuring, who wouldn’t make her defensive as Artie had. She was so fragile, more so since she’d confessed, first to Myka and then to Mrs Frederic, about her plans for the Minoan Trident. She hoped Abigail could help. Abigail caught Myka’s eye then, and smiled reassuringly.

 

“I promise to take good care of her, Agent Bering.”

 

“Call me Myka, please.”

 

She turned again to Helena.

 

“I’ll be back in an hour. I’m just gonna get some coffee and read for a while, and I’ll be here.” Helena looked at her with fear in her eyes. Myka leaned over and whispered in her ear.

 

“I promise.”

 

Then she turned and walked away. Helena didn’t need her hovering. She heard the door close behind her and breathed a short sigh of relief before putting her sunglasses on, getting in the car and seeking out a place to get coffee.

 

An hour later, she was well caffeinated as she pulled up outside Abigail’s house. A very relieved looking Helena emerged from the door, smiling at Abigail who had walked her out.

 

“So, how was it?” Myka asked after Helena had settled herself and put her seatbelt on.

 

Helena smiled softly.

 

“She was very nice. We were just talking, she told me that she knew about my plan with the Trident so at least I didn’t have to make yet another confession about that.” She smiled wryly. “We talked about Christina, about how I felt after she died. It wasn’t pleasant, going through it all, but it was less...painful than I expected.”

 

Myka smiled at her in relief. “I’m really glad, honey. Let’s go get some lunch.”

 

They ate at a small Mexican place off the main street in Featherhead. Helena was fascinated by the variety of food that was widely available in this time and was insisting on trying everything at least once.

 

“I think this is one of my favourites,” she mused, around a mouthful of enchilada.

 

Myka chuckled. “That figures. I still remember how much you liked those nachos we had that day we watched Harry Potter.”

 

Helena grinned at her.

 

“And I seem to remember you enjoying my enjoyment of those nachos a lot more than you were letting on, Agent Bering.” Her voice was low and seductive. Myka blushed, a full-on embarrassment blush. She hadn’t realised she was being so obvious, even back then. Helena started to laugh in delight.

 

“Bless you, my love. I am so pleased that I can still make you blush, even after you’ve been in my bed. Usually the blushes of young ladies abate after a time – I had surmised, apparently incorrectly, that there is only so much embarrassment one can manage after being so incredibly intimate with another.”

 

Myka put her head in her hands with a theatrical groan. How did Helena do it? She felt like her head was going to explode, her cheeks were so hot. Helena only laughed harder.

 

“I didn’t think you’d noticed. I didn’t realise I was being so obvious.”

 

Helena smiled, one eyebrow cocked, as usual.

 

“I couldn’t help but notice. You stopped breathing for a moment, and you were staring so very intently. I thought I had dropped something, or smeared something on my face, but then I realised you were staring at my mouth. Well, my tongue, I suppose. And then you blushed, so incredibly prettily. It didn’t take much imagination to work out what you might have been thinking about.”

 

Damn. Her face was on fire.

 

“I will get you back, Helena Wells. One day. You mark my words.” She buried her head in her hands again and waited for her blushes to abate.

 

When they returned to the B&B, Leena told them that Dr Calder was waiting for Helena. Helena told Myka she’d be all right on her own, so Myka went to her room to read for a while and relax her shoulders from all the driving. She was minding her own business when Mrs Frederic said “Agent Bering?”

 

She spilled her tea all over the bedspread.

 

“Crap!”

 

When she’d managed to take care of the mess, she asked Mrs Frederic to sit, indicating the chair that Helena liked by the window. She sat opposite the caretaker, suppressing her desire to ask how she appeared like that.

 

“What can I do for you, Mrs Frederic?” She was proud of how steady her voice was.

 

“I wanted to see how you are both adjusting to being back here. And I wanted to discuss Helena’s treatment with you.”

 

Myka ran her hand through her curls as she thought about how to reply to that.

 

“I am all right, Mrs Frederic. Apart from concerned about Helena, I guess. She’s not so all right, as I suppose you know. But she was much better today after she spoke to Abigail. I think she was worried that she was going to be Bronzed or institutionalised after she told you about everything, and she was worried that Abigail might tell the Regents to put her back there. Now she’s spoken to her and realised that’s not what’s going to happen, she seems a lot happier. But I think there’s a long way to go. I’m no psychiatrist but I’m guessing she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, not to mention depression and God knows what else. A hundred years in complete solitude and sensory deprivation – it’s surprising she’s anywhere near as healthy as she is.”

 

Myka noticed that Mrs Frederic flinched slightly at that. She said, quickly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that...”

 

Mrs Frederic held a hand up, forestalling her explanations. She suddenly looked very tired.

 

“It’s fine, Myka. I simply feel a weight of responsibility for what Helena went through. Of all the people in the Bronze sector, she deserved it the least. Her grief and pain drove her to madness, but I don’t believe that she ever actually wanted to hurt anyone other than her daughter’s murderers. Not until after we Bronzed her, anyway.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “I wish things had been different, but here we are. We can only deal with things as they are now. In the next few weeks, your colleagues are going to be very busy. We will, with any luck, be able to find Warehouse 2 and the Minoan Trident – along with all the other artefacts that remain there – and integrate them with the current Warehouse. It is all going to be very tricky and detailed, and usually I would be depending on you to lead your fellow agents in this kind of task to ensure that things don’t go wrong. As it is, I will have to bring in agents from different areas of the Warehouse organisation to deal with the retrieval. In the meantime, I would like you to take another furlough of sorts with Helena. Firstly, to keep her away from anything to do with Warehouse 2 and the Trident, because while I trust her, I do not wish to tempt her when she is so fragile. And secondly, because regardless of what is happening here, she will need to see Abigail every day for at least the next month or so. Abigail has agreed that you can live at her house for now. You will have your privacy, as there is a self-contained residence upstairs. And Abigail will be on hand for Helena’s therapy. Dr Calder will be checking in on you both periodically.”

 

Myka was torn. Of course she wanted to do anything she could to help Helena, because what she felt for Helena was so incredibly strong, so incredibly different from anything she’d ever felt before. But she’d always wanted to go to Egypt, and the opportunity to see Warehouse 2 and all the incredible things it contained – she’d never have that chance again. Mrs Frederic seemed to realise how conflicted she was, because she actually took Myka’s hand. The Caretaker’s softer side was extremely surprising to Myka. She’d been entirely aloof and inscrutable before Helena showed up, but since then she had seemed more human, and had displayed more compassion than Myka would have given her credit for, before.

 

“I am sorry, Myka, that you can’t be involved in what we’re going to be doing in Egypt. Believe me, there is no-one I would rather have working on this. But Helena needs you more than we do for now. And since you have assured me that if she goes elsewhere you will be following her, I think I need to ensure that you are both healthy and happy, if I am to keep my most valuable agent at the Warehouse. And I suspect that Helena will become a more than valuable asset, given the time to heal.” She smiled softly, and Myka couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“Thank you, Mrs Frederic. It’s very kind of you to say that. And you are right. Helena needs me, and I need her, so off to Featherhead we go. I’ll ask Pete to take some pictures for me in Egypt.” She smiled wryly at the idea of Pete at large in yet another Warehouse.

 

“Thank you, Agent Bering, for understanding. I believe we are all very fortunate that you and Helena met when you did.”

 

“Not as fortunate as I am, believe me.” But Myka was talking to an empty room. She sighed and stood up. She rummaged around in her closet for a moment and got out her suitcase. It was time to start packing again.

 

Helena came in a while later with a bottle of pills that Dr Calder wanted her to take. Myka wanted to look them up and check all the side effects, but Helena had given her a _look_ , and Myka decided that it was best to leave it up to Helena and Dr Calder. Dr C had already explained to Helena what was going to be happening, and apparently Helena now had a meeting with the Regents at the Warehouse. They were going to ask her for all her information about the Warehouse in Egypt and the whereabouts of the Minoan Trident. Steve was going to be there to ensure she wasn’t lying. Myka looked at her carefully but Helena didn’t seem worried or anywhere near as brittle as she’d been that morning when they’d been to see Abigail.

 

“I’m coming with you.” Myka announced, in a tone that brooked no argument.

 

“You don’t need to,” Helena protested.

 

“I _shouldn’t_ need to, Helena. But I don’t trust the Regents, and I’m not letting you go alone into a meeting with them. They could do anything to you and I’d never find out until they decided to share. So I’m not letting you go alone. It’s not that I think you can’t handle them, because I know you can handle anything. But I won’t let you go in there alone, okay?”

 

Helena nodded, and, putting the bottle of pills carefully in Myka’s suitcase, sat on the bed next to Myka and kissed her softly.

 

“I’ll be all right, you know. You don’t have to worry so much.”

 

Myka snorted.

 

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Helena. It’s them. After they decided to put you in the Bronze sector, they have the gall to make you take a lie detector test even after you’ve confessed everything? Everything that you had planned, Helena, was a result of their decision to put you in the Bronze sector.”

 

“That’s not entirely true, Myka. I had already thought about it before I was Bronzed, and I had undertaken research on Warehouse 2, and I had even retrieved part of the Trident. I was insane with grief, yes, but those actions were still my own.”

 

“Yes. And I am slightly scared of how clever you are, even while maddened with grief. But,” she held up a finger to head off Helena’s protests, “you still wouldn’t have gone through with it if you hadn’t had over a century of isolation and sensory deprivation to add to your problems. I know that, even if you don’t. So I will not trust these Regents, not unless I have far better reasons than those I’ve just given you. Okay?”

 

Helena shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. It’s difficult for me to see it clearly – any of it. I almost can’t believe I ever intended to do any of it, but before I met you, Myka, I wasn’t the same person.”

 

Myka shook her head. “You were, Helena. You just didn’t have anything to hold you to this world, like Christina did for you back then. That’s all. It’s hard to care about people when you don’t feel any connection to them. And now that we have each other, you do.”

 

Helena rolled her eyes.

 

“That’s all, she says, as if she’s not the single most miraculous thing to have ever happened to me. I despair.”

 

Myka’s eyes filled, but she hid it by hiding her face in Helena’s neck and kissing the soft skin there.

 

“Now, stop that, Myka, or we’ll never get to see the Regents.”

 

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be a damn shame.” Myka huffed against Helena’s hair, and reluctantly got up so they could make the drive to the Warehouse.

 

The meeting was anticlimactic after all of her worry. She and Helena were led into a room deep in the Warehouse that Myka had never seen before. There were a group of well-dressed older people there who simply asked Helena some detailed questions about her research into the whereabouts of Warehouse 2, which Helena answered honestly, as confirmed by a once again very uncomfortable looking Steve Jinks. They also asked about her plans with the Trident, and Helena told them everything, again truthfully. She stared at her shoes for the most part, but she answered clearly and succinctly. Myka held on to one of Helena’s hands and occasionally glared at the tenor of their questions, but eventually – after Helena confirmed that she had no ill intentions - they appeared satisfied. Helena promised to remain available should they have any more questions, and she, Steve and Helena filed out.

 

Steve looked at them both shamefacedly after the door closed behind them.

 

“I’m sorry about that, you guys. I promise you I won’t say anything to anyone about what was said in there.”

 

Helena took one of his hands in hers.

 

“It’s not your fault, Steven. I quite understand. You have a talent, and it’s not your job to decide how it is used in the service of the Warehouse. I appreciate your discretion. I would rather Arthur didn’t find out what I had planned – not while we are so at odds. He is in no state of mind to understand _my_ state of mind - that much is certain. The others I will tell in my own time, unless it should become essential in the meantime. Thank you.”

 

Steve was flushed, but managed a soft smile before he disappeared off into the Warehouse – probably looking for Claudia, Myka guessed. She was glad her young friend had found someone she cared about.

 

“Well, that was a lot better than I expected,” Helena murmured. Myka drew her into a hug, breathing in the scent of her hair. She was incredibly relieved, and was trying not to show it, because she was trying to be strong for Helena. But she was so afraid that the Regents would try and take her away. She didn’t realise that she was trembling until Helena whispered, “Oh, Myka,” and drew her closer, holding her tight and safe in her arms.

 

“I’m still here, love. I’m not going anywhere.” Myka hid her face in Helena’s hair for a few minutes as she tried to get her emotions under control.

 

“God, I’m sorry, Helena. I thought I was okay, but I guess I was more worried than I thought.” Myka drew back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as Helena watched her worriedly.

 

“It’s fine, Myka. I understand. I would be the same if I thought I might lose you. In fact I was exactly the same. I nearly blew up half of London by accident when I thought you might be hurt.” Myka stared at her in confusion.

 

“I did exactly the wrong thing when MacPherson shot at you, Myka. I threw myself in front of the bullet, which was incredibly noble of me, if I do say so myself.” She grinned as Myka rolled her eyes at that.

 

“However, if the antimatter canister had been hit by the bullet, it could have been catastrophic. I’m usually quite quick-witted, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” (another eye roll), “but I quite lost my head at the thought of you being hurt.” Helena’s face sobered. “I think we can probably excuse a few tears on your part in the circumstances.” Myka took another moment, and then linked Helena’s arm with hers as they began the long walk back to the car.

 

They reached Featherhead late that evening. Leena had insisted they stay at the B&B for dinner, and since Artie hadn’t been there, it was a very pleasant dinner, so they had lingered. Pete and Claudia had taken a few more bets on what Helena may or may not have experienced in the 1890s, and she’d gamely answered their questions, leaving Myka blushing once again at her exploits and her lack of shame.

 

“You did all that at the theatre with the Chancellor of the Exchequer in the next box?”

 

Myka had fled the room, her hands over her ears, and Leena’s hysterical laughter following her.

 

Abigail met them at her front door, yawning and waving away Myka’s apologies at the lateness of the hour.

 

“It’s fine, Agent Bering. I’m just naturally lazy. Don’t worry about me.”

 

She showed them to a self-contained apartment on the east side of the house. It was a little small, but they had everything they needed. Abigail wandered off, presumably to her bed, and they unpacked and got ready for bed.

 

Myka was just drifting off to sleep when Helena said, “Thank you,” right next to her ear. She jumped.

 

“Sorry, darling. I just – I wanted to say how much I appreciate what you have done. For me. I have been thinking about the Trident, what I had planned. It all seems so mad, now. But I would have done it if it hadn’t been for you. I would have destroyed the world, and myself.”

 

Myka kissed Helena’s forehead sleepily.

 

“No you wouldn’t. You would have needed the Warehouse, right? So you would have met me eventually. And even if we weren’t soulmates, I know you wouldn’t be able to kill me.”

 

Helena snuggled closer, throwing one leg over Myka’s.

 

“I don’t know why you have such faith in me, my love. But I’m very pleased that you do.”

 

Myka tightened her arm around Helena’s waist.                                                                                                       

 

“I do. I love you. Now go to sleep.” And Helena did, but not before Myka was snoring in her arms.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena has an epiphany, and it's not a pleasant one.

Helena woke before Myka the following morning. She had a nightmare about Christina’s death – not an unusual occurrence, but one that hadn’t happened since a few days after she and Myka met in London. She wiped away the inevitable tears that were on her face when she woke, and thought to herself that perhaps the nightmare had recurred because of her conversation with Abigail yesterday.  Abigail had asked her to recount what had happened on the day Christina died. Helena had gone through the story once again, telling her how strange it had felt to be in the body of another person, and how that body had betrayed her. Her daughter’s nanny’s body did not have the muscle memory and strength that Helena herself possessed, and thus her efforts to subdue the burglars had failed. A small variable, to be sure, but one that had doomed her attempt to failure. Abigail had listened intently, nodding occasionally to encourage her on with her story, and she found herself remembering details that she had previously forgotten or suppressed. The smell of the brass polish on Sophie’s hands, the stench of sweat that surrounded the men who had attacked her daughter, the brightness of the morning that had also extinguished the light of her life.

 

Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising, then, that she had relived it all once again. She sighed quietly, mindful that Myka was sleeping peacefully beside her and did not need to be woken simply because she couldn’t sleep. She observed the other woman in the half-light of the bedroom. Her hair was wild, curls going in every direction, and her eyelashes were dark against the white of her skin. Helena wondered how she had come to be here, in this time, with this woman. Helena was a firm believer in science, but since she met Myka Bering, she found herself considering words like ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’. That Helena had met Myka at all was incredible. She had been born over a century before Myka, yet here they lay next to one another in a bed in a town that most likely hadn’t even existed when Helena was born. The fact that they were soulmates was somewhere in the realm of the fantastical. And so Helena wondered if there really was such a thing as fate, or destiny. Helena Wells had lost everything in her own time, only to be brought forward to this place, to this time. This time in which she had met the woman who had given her the only true happiness she had felt since Christina had perished a few metres away from her outstretched hands.

 

A month ago, she had been bound and determined to end the world. Now she lay in a bed happily observing the woman she had fallen in love with so completely in a short space of time. She did not deserve this, she knew. But she couldn’t help but want it.

 

She stayed there, propped up on one elbow, barely allowing herself to breathe, and observed every inch of Myka’s face, every crinkle, every small mark. Her mind drifted a little. The last few days had been nightmarish in many ways. Arthur Nielsen had turned out to be every bit as bad as she had expected. Irene Frederic, however, had surprised her. She had told the Caretaker about her plans for the Trident with every expectation that Irene would have her back in the Bronze sector before she could blink. But she had simply looked at Helena with sympathy and fondness in her eyes. It made Helena think that perhaps what she had thought about doing was more understandable and less monstrous than she believed. Not that the action itself wouldn’t have been monstrous, but that what she had endured made her intentions more understandable. What she had wanted was to end her pain and to prevent anyone else from being hurt in such a way. The world she saw was so decayed and destroyed that children were murdered and society remained indifferent.  She saw, now, through the eyes of people like Myka, that they were not all indifferent. Some people saw the pain of others and tried to change things in whatever way they could. In this new world, where information was so readily available and the media trumpeted tragedy almost gleefully at any opportunity, people developed – had to develop – a sort of armour of indifference when it came to all the pain in the world. It didn’t mean that they didn’t care; it simply meant that they cared as much as they could without allowing that pain to destroy themselves. And now Helena needed to learn that skill.

 

Myka began to stir, and Helena smiled as her eyes fluttered open. The colour of her eyes was so changeable, Helena didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. Some days they were so pale green as to be almost grey, and sometimes – like now – they were a deep forest green. Awareness entered Myka’s gaze as she blinked sleepily.

 

“Helena? Why are you watching me?” She looked puzzled and sleepy. And devastatingly sexy. She was so unaware of her beauty and, as a result, wore it unassumingly.

 

“Good morning, my love. You look so beautiful when you’ve just woken, did you know that? The way your eyes glow in the morning light is quite lovely.” Helena bent her head to kiss Myka softly. Despite her protests about morning breath, Myka loved to be kissed in the morning. She responded enthusiastically, winding her arms around Helena’s neck and pulling their bodies close. Helena slipped one arm under Myka’s back, feeling the soft skin and strong muscle underneath the t-shirt that she wore. Their kisses led to tentative touches and they made love reverently, Helena thinking all the while – until she couldn’t think anymore – what a miracle it was that they were here at all.

 

The days that followed were quiet and, for Helena at least, fairly peaceful. She had her sessions with Abigail in the morning, usually, and Myka took the time to go for a run, a daily routine which she had been neglecting since Helena had entered her life. Helena could tell that Myka was restless, having steeled herself to the necessity of returning to the Warehouse after their furlough, and instead being relegated to the sidelines as her colleagues undertook the largest retrieval operation they’d ever attempted – the contents of an entire lost Warehouse. Helena felt guilty that she was the reason Myka was missing out on this opportunity, but she also reasoned that Warehouse 2 would never have been found without her research. Myka’s loss was the Warehouse’s gain. The Trident and the other artefacts contained therein were dangerous and valuable and therefore had to be protected. Despite her incarceration by the Regents and her previously genocidal bent, Helena believed strongly in the mission of the Warehouse. She hoped the information she had given to the Regents and to Mrs Frederic would allow the artefacts to be safely retrieved and stored without any loss of life. Her research on the defences of Warehouse 2 had revealed that there was a way to enter the Warehouse without loss of life, but it was time-consuming and very tricky. She had dismissed it for her own ends, reasoning that a few more lives on her ledger didn’t amount to very much against those of the entire world. But now that she had returned to herself, she was anxious about Myka’s colleagues who had so unexpectedly stood with her against Arthur’s tirade. Her eyes filled with tears each time she thought of that moment. The lovely Leena, who could see so much, and who still believed that Helena was worthy of redemption. Claudia, whose genius quite possibly surpassed her own, and who couldn’t look at Helena without blushing, had stood opposite her mentor and friend in support of Helena. Peter, who in another universe might well have been an easy target and conquest for Helena, had stood with her and kissed her cheek softly because Myka loved her. And Steven, who didn’t even know Helena, and had supported her simply because he believed Arthur was wrong. How had she come to be here, how had she gained the support of people such as this? It was inconceivable to her.

 

Each day that followed saw Myka become more restless. She tried valiantly to hide it from Helena, but she simply was not built to be idle.

 

“Myka. Stop fidgeting. What is the matter with you?” Helena asked irritably. Myka had been drumming her nails on the tabletop for over ten minutes, and Helena had had enough.

 

Myka sighed, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes as she did so.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I just – I’ve never spent this long not working before, not since – well, ever, I guess. When I was at school I was always studying and then I worked in my dad’s bookshop in my spare time. I loved our furlough – it was amazing – but I just don’t think I had realised how much of a spare part I was going to be here. This is about getting you better, and I want that, of course. I just wish I could do something to help.”

 

Helena, who had been reading a Wikipedia article about the Wright brothers, was sitting at the small table in their shared apartment. Myka was sitting opposite her, drumming her nails on the table and generally making a nuisance of herself.

 

“Love, I want you to be happy and content. I am sorry that you have been dragged away from the work of a lifetime because of me. I can’t say I’m unhappy you’re here, as it works out rather well for me,” she smiled smugly at that, “but perhaps you should find something with which to occupy yourself while we are here.”

 

Myka smiled in return, rolling her eyes slightly.

 

“Did you have any suggestions?” 

 

“Yes, I did have one, actually. How would you feel about doing some research into the TiMER device, the company that invented it, and perhaps finding a list of artefacts that might be used to find a person’s soulmate? It seems to me that it could be important.”

 

Myka pursed her lips thoughtfully.

 

“I suppose I could do that. I am curious, and like you said, it could be important.” She began to drum her fingers on the tabletop again, and Helena gave her a filthy look.

 

“Sorry,” she muttered, shamefaced. “Maybe I’ll go for another run, get rid of this nervous energy?”

 

Helena simply raised an eyebrow.

 

“Yes, I will definitely be going for a run.”

 

Helena stood and watched from the window as Myka took off down the street at high speed. Helena didn’t know where she got the energy from. She noticed a blond man in a wheelchair opposite. He seemed to be watching Myka. He caught Helena’s eye and turned his chair, pushing himself in the opposite direction. Helena resolved to mention it to Myka when she came back.

 

Her sessions with Abigail were difficult. She did not want to revisit her past. Christina’s death and the insanity that followed were a source of great pain to her. But, as Abigail put it, those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. She said it with the air of someone quoting a favourite author. Helena made a mental note to ask Myka about that, too. She supposed Abigail was right, as her past, her loss, had driven her to this place, over a hundred years in the future. Even in a world of endless wonder, her presence here was miraculous. So they talked about Christina. Christina’s short life, how she made Helena feel, and Christina’s death. Tomorrow, Abigail had promised, they would talk about her hunt for - and subsequent torture and murder of - Christina’s killers. Helena was not looking forward to it. Partially because the subject matter was not pleasant, and she did not want anyone looking at her as if she were a monster. But in the main, her reservations were about the fact that she did not, _could_ not feel ashamed of her actions. She would do the same again if anyone tried to hurt Myka, or indeed any one of Myka’s friends. Because that was part of who she was. She loved fiercely and she would fight just as fiercely to protect what she loved. Perhaps it made her a monster that she had stopped at nothing to avenge her daughter, but even now, as her mind returned to a blood-spattered room and screams of agony, she felt nothing but satisfaction for a job well done. They had felt her agony at the loss of her daughter before they died, as she had intended.

 

The following day, as she sat nervously opposite the cool and collected Ms Cho, she prepared herself to say just that – she was satisfied, she had achieved just what she had set out to. Abigail, however, started with a different line of questioning.

 

“Tell me about Christina. Her personality, who she was. She had to be pretty special, given what you did to try to get her back. What you were prepared to do to the world.”

 

Helena eyed the therapist warily, but she answered her questions hesitantly, and then enthusiastically as she warmed to her subject. She told Abigail about her daughter’s gentle nature, her generosity of spirit, her love for those around her – especially her mother. Abigail’s next words, however, brought her up short.

 

“Do you think Christina would have approved of what you did to those men? Do you think she would have been proud?”

 

Helena floundered. This was not what she had expected – she had thought Abigail would try to make her see the error of her ways because it was morally wrong to kill and the like. But Christina – she would not have been proud. She would have been horrified to see her mother feral and bathed in blood. She thought about that for a moment as Abigail waited patiently for her to speak. She stammered something and then she fled upstairs. She couldn’t flee her own shame, however, try as she might. Myka came back from a run and found her curled in a ball on the bed. There were no tears on her face, but she wore an expression of horror and shame. Myka held her for a long time, smelling of clean sweat and the citrus perfume that she preferred, holding tighter still when Helena suddenly started to sob.

 

Helena managed to calm herself after a time. It felt like an eternity to her. She had been so smug this morning, so sure that she could outwit Abigail and convince her that she was right to take the actions that she did, that her daughter deserved vengeance. Abigail’s quiet words had made her stop in her tracks, and made her see that what she had done was for her, revenge for _her_ pain. Christina would have been so ashamed of her. Never mind ashamed – her daughter would have been terrified of her. She couldn’t even look at Myka, never mind explain. She finally managed to choke out, “Ask Abigail. Tell her I said it’s all right.”

 

Myka nodded gravely and went downstairs. Helena got up and went to the kitchen. She filled the kettle and put it on the small stove, sniffling a little as she moved around. How had she – how could she have believed what she had done was justified? How could she have believed that it was the right thing to do, without ever considering what Christina would have wanted? She had been so singular in her focus, so determined to avenge Christina’s death, that she had never once thought about Christina herself, about the person her daughter was growing up to be. About the person she had tried to shape her daughter to be. Christina was fiercely intelligent like her mother, curious and wild. But she was also compassionate and caring, befriending others regardless of their station, and she would never have wanted Helena to become a killer. To kill in defence of her own life or someone else’s, yes, but not to kill for revenge. Helena saw what she had done for what it really was, for how Christina would have seen it, and she was profoundly ashamed that she had allowed her rage and pain to take her down that path – the path that had almost ended the world. She made herself some tea automatically, not grumbling for once about tea bags and laziness. She sat at the small table, staring at nothing, as she considered her actions carefully in a new light.

 

Myka said nothing when she returned, just squeezed Helena’s hand softly. Helena herself did not say anything at all for the rest of the day, lost in her own thoughts. She did not go to see Abigail the next day, or the next. She spoke only briefly to Myka, to agree to this or that for dinner or to say she was taking a shower. Other than that she thought only of Christina and of her own actions. Myka asked her, once, if she wanted to talk about it, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

 

“I’m here, if you want to.”

 

Helena cried often over those few days. She had come to realise how wrong she had been, how her actions would have looked to her daughter, and it was devastating. Myka was her rock, holding her when she needed it, and leaving her to her thoughts when she needed to be alone. She knew Myka was working on the puzzle of the TiMER and how it worked, but she couldn’t bring herself to be interested. All she could see, all she could feel, was her own shame. On the third day she went to see Abigail again, and when she saw sympathy on the woman’s face rather than the accusation she knew she deserved, she cried all over again. Helena was not a woman who cried, not usually, but her shame was bone deep. What she had done in Christina’s name was horrific and her unworthy of her daughter. Abigail wordlessly handed her some tissues and waited for Helena to speak. She did, eventually, and she told Abigail of her shame and grief at what she had done, and of what it would have done to her daughter had she known what her mother was capable of.

 

“We are all capable of great and terrible things, Helena. What you did to those men was terrible. And I know that you see that now. But you didn’t do it because you are evil, you did it because you were in pain. My purpose in pointing it out to you was to make you realise that you weren’t justified in what you did, not to make you think you are evil. I am sorry that it has caused you such pain to come to that realisation. But I hope it will help you to move on from where you are now.”

 

Helena returned to their apartment upstairs and asked Myka if they could go for a walk. She had what Myka had called “cabin fever” and needed to be outside, to feel fresh air on her face.

 

They walked wordlessly for some time, arm in arm, and suddenly something sparked in Helena’s memory.

 

“Have you seen a man in a wheelchair, Myka?”

 

Myka frowned.

 

“Yes, I’ve seen him twice now. I figured he lived around here. Why?”

 

“He was watching you a few days ago. I think we should watch for him. He saw that I was here, that I had spotted him, and he moved away.”

 

“Maybe he’s just some pervert, Helena. Don’t worry so much. I’ll keep my eyes open.” They walked on, not noticing that they were being watched from a house across the street. Not the man in the wheelchair, this time, but a tall man with a long nose that looked to have been broken at one point or another. He put down his binoculars and made a telephone call.

 

“Sir? It’s her. Wells is here.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myka helps Helena deal with her recent epiphany, and a dog walk ends in disaster.

Myka was worried. Helena had been near-silent for over two days. Myka knew Helena well enough, now, to know that she was an ‘all-or-nothing’ type of person. Having previously felt no guilt about what she’d done to Christina’s murderers, she had flipped to feeling nothing _but_ guilt. Myka was no psychiatrist, but she sensed that allowing Helena to wallow in her guilt for much longer was a mistake. Helena had walled herself off somehow. She was there, but not, at the same time.

Aside from linking their arms together on their walk earlier, and allowing Myka to hold her when she cried, she hadn’t touched Myka at all. So Myka planned a distraction – and a seduction.

 

Myka ordered in some Thai food from a place nearby – nothing too hot, but a good selection of different flavours for Helena to try – and some light Chinese beer that she felt went well with the food.  Helena tried to avoid eating, but Myka insisted softly, almost pouting, and Helena relented.  Her eyes didn’t quite light up at the different flavours, but there was a small spark of interest as Myka urged her to try each different dish. They drank copious amounts of the beer between them, and Helena was beginning to loosen up a bit, so Myka suggested they go to bed early. Helena visibly stiffened and said she’d rather stay up for a while. Myka shrugged and cleared away the remains of the food and the plates, and sank into the soft couch beside Helena, who shrank away from her touch and sat stiffly, watching Myka when she thought she wasn’t being observed. Myka tried to take her hand, and Helena waited a moment before moving her hand away, ostensibly to scratch her other arm, but Myka noticed that she kept both hands well out of reach. Myka put her hand on Helena’s knee, and suddenly Helena had to go to the bathroom, and when she returned, she stayed on the opposite side of the sofa so she was out of Myka’s reach.

 

Myka sighed to herself softly, before deciding to get to the bottom of this – whatever it was. She would not ever force Helena to be near her, to touch her, but she would not allow her to pull away without at least an explanation. So she got up and kneeled on the floor in front of Helena, taking both of Helena’s hands in hers in a strong but gentle grip.

 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asked, softly.

 

Helena looked away from Myka’s intense gaze before saying, “What do you mean?”

 

“You know exactly what I mean, Helena. You had a crisis, you faced up to something difficult, but now you’re pulling away from me, and I want to know why. You won’t touch me, you don’t want to spend time with me. I understand that this is all incredibly difficult, but I came here to support you.  So let me. Talk to me.”

 

“I just need some time to myself, Myka.” She still wouldn’t meet Myka’s eyes.

 

“Can I ask why, exactly?”

 

“You shouldn’t have to spend your time babysitting me, Myka. You should go back to the Warehouse. Abigail and I can continue our sessions and I will see you when I get better.”

 

“You’re lying to me, Helena Wells.”

 

Helena flushed. “I’m not; I just need some time...”

 

Myka spoke over her angrily.

 

“That’s bullshit. You want me to go because you think I won’t love you anymore if I know what you did to those men. Is that it? Because you’re filled with guilt, you believe that you’re not worthy of being loved. Am I right?”

 

Helena gritted her teeth.

 

“You deserve someone better, Myka. You don’t need me in your life. I am a murderer and my daughter would be ashamed of me.”

 

“Maybe. Maybe I should have a soulmate who is a paragon of virtue. Maybe I should decide to love someone else. I mean, Pete’s available. What do you think?” She raised an eyebrow at Helena mockingly. Helena’s hands tightened into fists at Myka’s words.

 

“You don’t like that idea, do you? You don’t like the idea of me with someone else, not at all.” Myka’s voice was a low and seductive and harsh all at once.  She stood, putting her hands on the couch on either side of Helena’s head, leaning over her.

 

“If you want me to be with someone else, I suppose I should think about it. If you’re not good enough for me. I mean, I deserve so much better than you, right? Someone else to care for me, someone else in my bed. Is that what you want?” Her mouth was millimetres from Helena’s ear now, and Helena’s eyes were closed, her teeth gritted as she tried not to react.

 

“Let me tell you something, Helena Wells. I _already knew_ what you did to those men. I read your file when we were at the Warehouse. Claudia found it in the Archives. What you did was monstrous.” Helena flinched.

 

“But you are not a monster.” Myka kissed Helena’s cheek. “You were a woman in pain, a woman trying desperately to make that pain stop.” She kissed Helena’s jaw. “I have never had a child, so I don’t know how I would react.” A kiss to her earlobe, this time. “I don’t know if I would have survived that loss. Because when I lost Sam, I died a little for a while. And if I lost you...after feeling this way, feeling as strongly as I do? I think a little revenge on those who caused it wouldn’t be far from my mind.” She touched Helena’s cheek softly with the back of one hand, and ran her fingers through Helena’s hair.

 

“I know what you did, and I still love you. So you can stop all this self-sacrificing crap and come to bed with me.” Helena was turning to her, now, and she sat next to her, placing a soft kiss carefully at the corner of her mouth. Helena’s hands were still in fists, so Myka took them in her own hands and rubbed at them softly with her thumbs, coaxing Helena to relax, to let go.

 

“You do deserve better, Myka. The things I’ve done – what I was planning to do? I am a monster. You are so much better than I could ever be. You would never do what I did.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not. I hope I never get to find out what it feels like, Helena. And if I’m honest, I am selfishly glad that you did what you did.” Helena looked at her, open mouthed and wide-eyed.

 

“How can you say that?”

 

“Because if you hadn’t killed those two men, if your colleague hadn’t been killed – you wouldn’t be here with me. And I wouldn’t get to be as happy as I am every time I see your face, or kiss you, or touch you. Do you think that makes me a monster, too? That I’m almost glad that they died?”

 

Helena stared for another moment, and then considered, her brow furrowed.

 

“It’s a little selfish, I suppose. But I understand the sentiment.” She smiled softly.

 

“So will you please stop pulling away from me? I know you think you’re doing it for my good, but believe me when I say it’s not. I need you, Helena, and I am not a person who needs other people. I’ve done perfectly well on my own thus far and I never wanted to need anyone. But now I do, and I’m putting my pride to one side and telling you that I need you. Don’t push me away.” Her eyes pleaded with Helena.

 

She could see Helena warring with herself, see her jaw begin to set.

 

“Please, Helena.”

 

Helena turned to her, trembling.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Myka.”

 

“So don’t. Don’t hurt me. Stay with me.”

 

Helena gave in, visibly relaxing as she turned to Myka and kissed her, first tenderly and then more roughly, her fingers digging into Myka’s shoulders. Myka responded by sliding one arm under Helena’s knees and the other around her back and carrying her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

 

After an energetic hour that Myka fervently hoped had not been loud enough to keep Abigail awake, Myka spoke softly into the silence.

 

“You can’t do this every time you get scared. I need you, I want you, and I don’t want to live without you. So please, stay with me, Helena. Don’t decide for me that you’re not good enough. I get to decide who I want to be with, and it’s you. Please don’t shut me out.”

 

Helena responded by kissing her hungrily. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

 

On the ground floor, Abigail was sitting on the couch trying to read. She groaned as she heard the noise from upstairs starting again. She was going to have to invest in some noise cancelling headphones. She turned the TV up until she couldn’t hear it anymore. At least they didn’t need any couples’ counselling, she thought to herself wryly.

 

*

 

The following morning, Helena took an early morning stroll with Abigail’s dog, a small breed called a Lhasa Apso. She was small and teddy-bear like and incredibly docile. She had taken to walking the little creature every morning because she was having trouble sleeping. Myka was an early riser but she was not interested in accompanying her on a walk - not until she’d had several coffees, at least, and then she usually wanted to run, rather than walk. (And on this particular morning Myka was overtired from their discussion and its aftermath.) So Helena dutifully walked little Lola every morning to save Abigail the chore. She appreciated the time spent elsewhere, time to reflect and enjoy being outdoors. And having something to do, even such a small thing, gave her a sense of purpose that she had been missing. Her mind was busy, replaying the events of last night. She was still a little stunned that Myka had been so aggressive in dealing with Helena’s attempt to persuade her that she would be better off without her. She had been finding it hard to look at Myka when she was so filled with guilt and shame. Imagining Christina’s reaction was bad enough – but Myka was here, she meant so very much to Helena, and the idea of her knowing about what she’d done to those men – it was nearly unbearable. So she did what she thought was right and began to withdraw from Myka. She didn’t want to, the woman was her whole world, but she was sure that she didn’t deserve Myka and that it was only a matter of time before Myka realised that. Apparently she was wrong on both counts. Myka already knew and the knowledge hadn’t changed how she felt about Helena. Helena found herself blushing fiercely as she thought of how Myka had persuaded her so forcefully that her feelings hadn’t changed. She didn’t hear the man approach, lost in her thoughts as she was, and struggled briefly as he placed the rag over her face, but she had already inhaled too much of the chloroform to put up much of a fight. Lola was left tied to a tree, thoroughly confused and whining pitifully until an hour or so later when Myka and Abigail found her, thankfully unharmed.

 

*

 

There was a knock at the door. Myka woke, confused. Helena had gone out to walk Abigail’s little dog as she had every day since they’d got here, but she told Myka to stay in bed. Myka had been more than happy to comply. The previous night had been exhausting, physically and mentally.

 

“Myka?”

 

It was Abigail’s voice. Myka shot out of bed to answer the door. She pulled it open in a rush, almost losing her balance.

 

“Abigail? What’s wrong?”

 

Abigail looked as tired as Myka felt.

 

“Helena took Lola out for a walk, but she hasn’t come back. It was over an hour ago. She’s usually back after 30 minutes. I’m a little worried.”  

 

“Do you think she’s left?” Myka asked, chewing on her lip.

 

“No, I don’t think she would do that. She is in this for the long haul, or at least that’s what my instincts tell me. Should we go look for her?”

 

“Yes. Just let me get dressed. I’ll be right down.”

 

They found Lola tied to a tree a mile or so down the road. There was no sign of Helena. Luckily, there was a piece of cloth abandoned on the side of the road near the little dog, and the smell of chloroform was strong. Myka breathed a sigh of relief that Helena hadn’t, in fact, left her. Abigail looked at her in disbelief for a long moment. It took Myka a beat or two to work out why.

 

“Oh my God, Abigail! You must think I’m insane! We had a talk last night, and Helena kept saying that I’d be better off without her. We talked about it, and I thought I’d gotten through to her, but when you said she hadn’t come back, I kind of panicked. I realise that this isn’t good news, honestly I do, but I guess I’m just relieved that she didn’t leave of her own volition.”

 

Abigail looked at her with a raised eyebrow for a moment, and then nodded.

 

“So what now?”

 

“I need to call Artie. I don’t know who would have taken her, but she said something about a guy in a wheelchair watching me. Maybe Claudia can find something.”

 

Myka’s stomach was churning. Helena had been kidnapped. Who would want to take her? Who even knew who she was? It didn’t make sense. Myka ran the whole way back to Abigail’s house and contacted Artie on her Farnsworth as soon as she got to their apartment. His face appeared, irritated as usual. They had barely spoken since she had stood up to him in the office of the Warehouse.

 

“Myka? What is it? I’m busy?”

 

Myka suppressed a sigh.

 

“Artie, Helena’s been kidnapped.”

 

“Yes, of course she has,” he sneered sarcastically. “HG Wells is not my concern. Mrs Frederic has made that quite clear. Take this up with her.” And he hung up on her.

 

Myka was dumbstruck. She knew Artie was an ass sometimes, but this was beyond even his normal level of rude. She ran downstairs and asked Abigail, who had just arrived, looking rather out of breath, if she had a number for Mrs Frederic. She did, and Myka borrowed her phone to make the call. She told Mrs Frederic briefly what had happened, and what Artie had said. Mrs Frederic was silent for a moment, and then said, “Get back to the Warehouse, Agent Bering. You will have all the help you need to investigate when you get there.”

 

Myka told Abigail where she was going, and made her promise to keep her eyes open and call Myka if she caught sight of the man in the wheelchair. Myka took off, still in the sweatpants and t-shirt she’d thrown on when Abigail knocked at the door, and drove to Univille with her lights flashing and sirens blaring the whole way. She wasn’t supposed to use them, not unless it was official Warehouse business, but she didn’t care. Helena was gone and she had no idea why, or who might have her.

 

When Myka arrived at the Warehouse, Claudia was in the office with Mrs Frederic and a woman Myka thought she recognised.

 

“Mrs Lattimer? Is that you? Is everything okay? Did something happen to Pete?”

 

The woman smiled.

 

“Yes, Myka, it’s me. Peter is fine, don’t worry. He’s in Egypt but we might have to call him back, given the circumstances. Now, can you describe this man in the wheelchair for me?” Mrs Lattimer’s face was sympathetic, but her tone brooked no argument. Myka was confused. What was she doing here? She looked from Mrs Lattimer to Mrs Frederic, wondering whether she should explain or not.

 

Mrs Frederic nodded, giving Myka permission to explain. Hmm. Something strange was going on here.

 

“Okay, well I only saw him twice, but he was blond and he looked well dressed. He didn’t look like he was a nice person, though. Something about his eyes was…off.”

 

Mrs Lattimer nodded.

 

“Claudia?”

 

The redheaded tech turned to Myka and showed her a picture of a face on her computer screen.

 

“Is this the guy, Myka?”

 

Myka nodded. It was him, dead eyes and all.

 

Mrs Lattimer put her head in her hands.

 

“Dammit, I was afraid of this. When I heard that his soulmate had passed, I thought he might…regress.”

 

Mrs Frederic put her hand on Mrs Lattimer’s arm soothingly.

 

“You weren’t to know, Jane. We did our best for that boy, you know that.”

 

Wait a minute, Mrs Frederic knew Mrs Lattimer? Jane? And what boy were they talking about?

 

Mrs Lattimer looked at Myka, seeing her confusion.

 

“I’m sorry, Myka, we don’t have time to explain everything just yet. Claudia, have you managed to find any further information on where they might be headed?”

 

Claudia nodded.

 

“I think I’ve got a line on them. Just give me a few minutes.” She continued typing furiously, her brow furrowed. Myka sank down into a chair, thoroughly confused and frantic about Helena. Mrs Lattimer put her hand on Myka’s shoulder.

 

“We will find Ms Wells, Myka. I promise you that we will do whatever is necessary to get her back to you.”

 

Myka smiled at the woman weakly. Who the hell was ‘we’, anyway? What the hell was Pete’s mom doing here?

 

Claudia spun around in her chair.

 

“Okay, I did a search on any recently rented apartments in Abigail’s street and came up with one that was being rented by a corporation called A to Z Technologies. I have been doing some digging and the corporation just rented a private jet heading out of a small airfield nearby. They’re heading to Hong Kong.”

 

Mrs Lattimer shared a worried look with Mrs Frederic.

 

“The Regent Sanctum?”

 

Myka stared at them both.

 

“Okay, does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on? Mrs Lattimer, with all due respect, why are you here? How do you know Mrs Frederic, and what is the Regent Sanctum?”

 

Claudia flinched visibly at her tone, and shrank back in her chair as Mrs Lattimer’s chest puffed up in a way that reminded Myka of Pete when he was trying to intimidate a suspect.

 

“Agent Bering, I am a Regent, which is why I am here. The Regent Sanctum was in Hong Kong, but it’s been lost for over a century. It’s still the only reason I can think of for Walter Sykes to go there. As for the rest of the information, I am afraid I don’t have the time to go into it right now. Nor do you. You need to get on a flight to Hong Kong immediately. I will send Pete and Steve to meet you there, and any information we find in the meantime will be relayed to you by Claudia. Is that clear?”

 

Myka raised an eyebrow coolly.

 

“Crystal. But I think I might have a few questions when this is all over, _Regent_ Lattimer. Does Pete know?” She saw Claudia wince again. Claudia didn’t do well with conflict, but this secrecy was not good for any of them.

 

Mrs Lattimer eyed her warily.

 

“Pete doesn’t know. I haven’t had reason to tell him until now. Can I trust you to be…discreet?”

 

“You mean, can you trust me not to tell my partner that his mother has been a Regent this whole time without telling him?”

 

Mrs Frederic lifted an eyebrow, and Myka let matters drop for now. Claudia heaved a sigh of relief from the corner.

 

“I’m going to drop by the B&B to get some things. Claud, can you send me the flight details?”

 

“Yeah, sure thing Myka.”

 

Myka left the office without a backward glance. She was furious. Her soulmate – HG Wells – was trapped with a man with god knows what kind of plans, and now Mrs Lattimer pops out of nowhere and tries to give her a load of “need to know” crap? She was usually the kind to just do what she was told, stick to the rules, and get things done. But what the Regents had done to Helena – and everyone else in the damn Bronze sector, for that matter – was not okay. She was beginning to think very carefully about what they were asking her to do, and that wasn’t like her either. And now Artie, with his vendetta against Helena, and his ridiculous behaviour – they were all making her reconsider what she was doing here and why she was doing it. It was fine if he didn’t like Helena, but the way he was behaving – he was putting her life at risk, and Myka wouldn’t stand for that. She stormed off to her car and drove to the B&B at breakneck speed to change and pack a few essential clothes and belongings, a Tesla, neutraliser bags and gloves. Her service weapon was already on her hip – it had been since Abigail had woken her and told her Helena was missing.

 

She briefly filled Leena in on what was happening and left quickly, making it to the airport in record time, lights and sirens going the whole way. She dumped the car at the door of the airport and, even after flashing her badge at security, only just made it onto the flight.

 

She settled in her chair, thanking all the deities she could name that Claudia had found her a seat with extra leg room. She took out her tablet and opened the series of emails that Claudia had sent to her.

 

An hour later, she was still reading. Walter Sykes was an ordinary boy who had an accident, resulting in him becoming paraplegic. He was unfortunate enough to come across an artefact - Carlo Collodi’s bracelet – which had enabled him to walk again. The young Jane Lattimer was sent to investigate. She was forced to take the artefact from him, as it had a serious downside. It planted a seed of darkness in the person using it, hardening their heart. The boy was watched very carefully from then on, but he hadn’t done anything of note. The Regents were still concerned, and anyone who met Sykes commented on his detachment and lack of morals. They were trying to decide what to do about him when things changed. Several years ago he met his soulmate using the TiMER. Somehow, she had arrested the darkness in him, and the Regents had decided that no further action needed to be taken. However, six months ago, his soulmate was killed by a drunk driver. It appeared that Sykes had gone off the grid from then on, emerging only to register his new company, A to Z technologies.

 

Claudia had spent a lot of time researching Sykes, but she’d only come up with one other fact about him – he had spent time and a lot of money investigating the TiMER device and TiMERcorp itself.

 

Claudia had added a note to the end of the last email.

 

_“Myka_

_Something hinky is going on, other than this whole Sykes thing. In the past 48 hours, we have had eighteen reports of murders perpetrated by new TiMER soulmates on one another. Given that they have had a 100% success rate this whole time, and that gaining a soulmate seems to be, on the whole, an entirely positive experience, I call shenanigans. I will dig a little deeper and let you know what I find._

_Claudia x ”_

Myka sighed. That was just what they needed; another problem. Eighteen murders? Was there something up with the TiMER device? Or was this something to do with a possible artefact? Helena was certain that there was more to TiMERcorp and soulmates than algorithms and devices.

 

_Helena._

 

Myka let herself cry quietly on the empty row. She couldn’t believe that they were here again – Helena, in danger, with her too far away to help. She tried to keep positive but in her head she kept hearing the dull crack of Helena’s head hitting the desk in the Wells museum; the blood stain spreading on the vest she wore. She couldn’t lose her again.

 

She cried herself to sleep and only woke up when the announcement came that they were about to land.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena meets her abductor and finds out what is truly behind the TiMER, and Myka tries to find her soulmate with a little help from her Warehouse friends.

Helena woke with a dry mouth and a slight headache. And no idea where she was. She opened her eyes tentatively, seeing what appeared to be the interior of a small plane. She was upright, belted in to a chair with her head practically touching her own shoulder. She tried to sit up straight and was overcome by a wave of nausea. A young man entered her field of vision suddenly and put a bin in front of her, into which she was noisily sick several times.

 

“Sorry about that, Ms Wells,” a voice drawled from her left. “Unavoidable, I’m afraid. Common side effect of chloroform.”

 

The man was opposite her, on the same row of seats. The man in the wheelchair who had been watching them.

 

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir,” she said icily, keeping her face smooth and her voice calm.

 

“Ah, very courteous, Ms Wells. I had heard that about you. I am told you possess a great deal of charm and charisma. I am Walter Sykes, and if our mutual friend James MacPherson is to be believed, you and I share a goal. The destruction of the Warehouse and all its works.”

 

She turned her head slowly to look at him properly.

 

“Mr MacPherson has shuffled off this mortal coil, I’m afraid. He crossed me and met a rather…sticky end as a result. Are you sure you want to ally yourself with me?” She thought of Myka, of last night, of their frantic declarations of love – and of her promise to Myka that she wouldn’t leave her. And here she was, a short time later, and this man had already made a liar of her. If he wanted to destroy the Warehouse, then he would be unlikely to care about its agents. Which meant he was her enemy. She fought to keep her fists from clenching, and her face still.

 

“Ally myself? Of course not, Ms Wells. You will do whatever I say, and if you don’t, you will reap the consequences. I understand that your soulmate, Agent Bering, is on her way to Hong Kong as we speak. I’m fairly sure that you don’t want anything to happen to her now, do you?” He smiled at her, but his eyes were just as dead as those she’d seen in the mirror after she’d killed two French men in another lifetime. He was quite mad. She swallowed, and then nodded her head. She would do what he said, and watch for an opportunity. And when it came…she ground her teeth. He would find out what happened when someone tried to hurt the one she loves. Blood-soaked memories filled her mind, and despite her recent realisation about her previous actions, she let them come. To save Myka, she would be the monster, and deal with the consequences later.

 

*

 

Myka landed in Hong Kong late at night, and after consulting with Mrs Frederic on her Farnsworth, decided to stay awake and try to find clues for where the Regent Sanctum might be. She checked into a hotel room and sat herself on the middle of the bed, surrounded by paper and maps and pictures. After looking at some information on Hong Kong history to see if there might be any clues to where the Sanctum could have been placed, she was beginning to despair. Something was nagging at her, something familiar - an eye of Horus? She looked around at the information that surrounded her, and there it was - on a map. Why would it be on a map? Her brow furrowed as she pulled the map out from under the rest of the papers. The symbol was in the pattern of the roads surrounding Tai Po. She called Mrs Frederic back and asked if the Eye of Horus was significant.

 

Mrs Frederic nodded.

 

“Where did you find it, Myka?” she asked, looking unsettled.

 

“Tai Po. What does it mean?” Myka asked.

 

“It’s the symbol of the Regents.” Mrs Frederic said, shortly.

 

Myka’s temper flared.

 

“Don’t you think that might have been the kind of information that might have helped me to locate the Sanctum, Mrs Frederic? Don’t you think I’ve earned enough trust to at least be told this one, quite significant piece of information?” Myka was almost yelling.

 

“Agent Bering. Calm yourself, please.” Mrs Frederic’s voice was soft and calm. Myka had half expected to be summarily fired for insubordination, but dammit, she was so _tired_ of all the deceit.

 

“I am sorry this information wasn’t shared with you. I know you are frightened for Ms Wells. So am I. Please, let us work together to try and help her.”

 

Myka’s eyes filled with tears at Mrs Frederic’s frank admission. She took a moment and wiped her eyes, pulling back all of her precious control to get her through this.

 

“Okay, Mrs Frederic. I’m sorry. We need to go to Tai Po. Are Pete and Steve here yet?”

 

Claudia’s face appeared over Mrs Frederic’s shoulder.

 

“Hey Myka. Steve and Pete are just landing, their transfer was delayed. They’re heading to your hotel as soon as they pick up their car.” Mrs Frederic looked at Claudia’s face, inches from her ear, and one eyebrow raised in disbelief. Claudia’s face paled as she realised what she was doing. She disappeared immediately.

 

Mrs Frederic turned back to face Myka.

 

“I will do everything in my power to make sure Agent Wells stays safe, Myka. In the meantime, get to Tai Po and do what you can. I will make sure you have any other information you might need.”

 

Myka closed the Farnsworth and, after pinpointing the centre of the Eye of Horus, began to plan how to deal with Walter Sykes. They didn’t know how many people were with him or what his aim was in kidnapping Helena. She went through scenarios in her mind, the issue of the TiMER tickling at the back of her mind. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

 

Pete and Steve came in and wordlessly enveloped her in a hug sandwich.

 

“We’ll get your girl home safe, Mykes, I promise.”

 

“Thanks Pete,” she said, her head down, pressed against his shoulder.

 

She filled them in on what she’d found, and mentioned the TiMER murders too, in case Pete got a vibe about it. It was mixed up in this somewhere, she knew. She buried her impatience during the short drive to Tai Po. The road noise mixed with Pete’s tuneless singing to crappy pop songs and Steve’s soft snores,lulling her into an uneasy doze.

 

*

 

Helena might as well have been returned to the Bronze. For here she was, scheming and thinking of death and vengeance and violence. She knew with some certainty that, had she met this man before she had fallen in love with Myka Bering, the world would now be a frozen wasteland. In Walter Sykes was the embodiment of everything she hated about the human race – indifference, cruelty, hatred. He saw her watching him and laughed, his dead eyes sweeping up and down her body in a way that made her feel disgusting. She half-lurched out of her seat, her rage pushing her to do something – anything – to quiet that mocking laughter, to turn that smug look into pain and fear. But suddenly her body was no longer her own. She was unable to move a muscle.

 

“It’s an interesting feeling, isn’t it, Ms Wells? Your body subject to the whims of another? It’s probably a bit like being in the Bronze sector, except that here, I can make you do anything I want. Anything.” His voice went from mocking to suggestive on the last word, and she fought the urge to vomit. Her head turned of its own volition and her eyes met his.

 

“I would never degrade a brilliant woman such as yourself, Ms Wells. But know this – I am in charge here, and you will do what I wish, or you will feel pain beyond anything you have ever felt. Here, have a taste.”

 

He flexed something that was held in his hand – a riding crop, perhaps? Her body was instantly filled with pain, pain that seared and blasted her nerve endings. The scream that she let out was unlike anything she’d ever heard from her own throat. It reminded her of a blood-stained room, of the smell of burning flesh. Somewhere inside of her, the monster grinned. She would have her day. This man had no idea who he was dealing with.

 

Her body moved and she sat opposite Sykes, her posture submissive and her hands placed demurely in her lap. She laughed internally. She was anything but demure, and he would know that soon enough.

 

“I feel like telling you a story, Ms Wells. How about that? Yes?” He made her nod, and grinned in amusement at his puppetry.

 

“When I was a child, I found a bracelet. I was crippled and I was useless. I wanted to go out and play ball with the other boys; I wanted to be normal. And when I put the bracelet on, I was normal. My legs worked and I was able to run and play and have fun. For the first time in my life, I was happy. And then a woman came and took the bracelet away, because it was too dangerous.” His eyes were still dead, but now there was rage and mayhem in them too.

 

“This woman told me that I couldn’t keep the bracelet, even though it gave me the ability to walk. Because I would become too dangerous, I would be evil and then they would have to contain me, like they did with you, Ms Wells. The Warehouse. I spent twenty years researching, corresponding with others who had been wronged by the Warehouse, including your Mr MacPherson. I worked out a plan, worked out how I could destroy the Warehouse and every soul who had ever worked in that godforsaken place. And then she came along – my soulmate. My mother, she forced me to get the TiMER device. And it went off, and it was this beautiful woman, and she loved me, she really did, Ms Wells. She helped me to be happy, and like when I was a child, the Warehouse took her away from me.”

 

Helena raised one eyebrow. She had control over her face, at least.

 

“A drunk driver killed her. But they – the Warehouse - are the reason the TiMER chose her. After all their trumpeting about how artefacts must be contained, they have been using one for their own ends. Antony and Cleopatra’s goblet – it was imbued with their love for one another and it now finds a person’s soulmate when a drop of their blood is placed in the goblet. One of my associates killed the Warehouse archivist for that information.” He smiled grimly.

 

Helena thought quickly. How did he equate the Warehouse _finding_ his soulmate with them taking her away? Her confusion showed on her face, apparently.

 

“You think I am mad, that the Warehouse wasn’t responsible for Karen’s death? But if they hadn’t interfered, if they hadn’t started up this TiMER business, I might never have met her. I wouldn’t have had to love her and then lose her.” Something showed in his eyes then, a spectre of the human he had once been, perhaps. He shook his head and his eyes were empty once more.

 

“I will get the bracelet back, Ms Wells, and I will walk out of that place and leave it in dust and ruin behind me. And in the meantime, I have poisoned their goblet so that their soulmates are really quite the opposite.” He smiled again, but this time it was smug.

 

“What did you do?” Helena forced out, her chest twisting.

 

“I used one of John Hinckley’s letters to Jodie Foster – it causes the bearer to find the one person on the earth who is their worst possible match. They will fall in love, and they will be happy, but eventually each will turn on the other, becoming the very worst version of themselves. And that is the legacy that the Warehouse will leave behind as I reduce it to rubble, Ms Wells.”

 

Helena reeled as if he had hit her.

 

“When…” she choked.

 

He laughed. “Are you worried that you and your little secret agent aren’t soulmates? I wish I could enlighten you, Ms Wells, but the lady who did the deed for me has since disappeared and I don’t know when she actually managed to taint the goblet. Such a shame. Sally was such a willing…participant in my games.” His lascivious tone left no doubt as to how Sally had participated. Helena, however, was not listening. Her bond with Myka – the way she felt – it was her only tether to this time, to this place. She loved the woman to distraction. But the idea that she could in fact be the worst possible match for Myka – well, it made sense. Because why else would the goblet have chosen her as a match for Myka Bering, such a good and pure human being? She was broken and mad and damaged, and Myka deserved far better than that.

 

Walter Sykes grinned as he watched HG Wells deflate in front of him. He knew exactly when the tainting had occurred, and exactly what had happened to poor unfortunate Sally Stukowski. But he was having so much fun! The woman in the seat opposite was as mad as he was, and she would so easily believe that her love for Agent Bering was tainted. He knew that it had been weeks _after_ Wells and Bering had been matched when Sally finally managed to infiltrate the TiMERcorp facility that held the goblet. He laughed out loud to himself, watching her flinch at the noise and then retreat into herself even more.

 

*

 

Pete pulled up at the address that was at the centre of the Eye of Horus on the map. It was a restaurant. Myka called Claudia and asked her to pull up the schematics of the building. As she suspected, there was a basement. She and Pete walked boldly through the restaurant, finding the door for the bathrooms, and scooted through the “Staff only” door when no-one was looking. Steve was a few seconds behind them. They had decided that having a rear guard might not be a bad thing. There was no need for that, however, as they seemed to be alone. They pulled out their Teslas and made their way carefully downstairs through a warren of rooms, finally coming to an empty basement. There was nothing there, just an empty room. Myka searched around carefully and came up with a necklace that had been dropped on the floor near the wall. It was Helena’s locket. She looked at the wall where the locket had been dropped, and saw a small picture – the Eye of Horus – on the wall. She smiled, gladdened by the sign that Helena was still alive and still able to help her solve this puzzle. She carefully put the locket in her pocket and told the guys to get ready. She pressed on the small picture, and the wall moved back. They went down a few stairs and round another corner, and there they were. Helena, improbably holding a gun, and Sykes in his wheelchair, and a young man sitting in a chair with a game of chess in front of him on a table. What the hell was this?

 

Some small noise must have betrayed them, because Sykes turned with an evil smile on his face, holding a riding crop in his hands. Before Myka could adequately process what was happening, Helena spun on her heel and shot Steve in the head. He was on the floor – dead – before Myka could move or speak or even breathe.

 

“Myka, that wasn’t me!” Helena screamed. “He has control of my body. Please, run, now!” She raised the gun and fired again. Myka distinctly felt the wind of the bullet’s passing on her face. She was frozen.

 

“Agent Bering, Agent Lattimer. Come and join us. Ms Wells here was just helping me with a puzzle.” Sykes’ voice was dripping with false courtesy.

 

Myka knelt beside Steve, searching for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She knew there wouldn’t be, but she had to check. Pete took her by the arm, dragging her into the room. “Come on, don’t make your girl shoot you.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Myka. It wasn’t me. I can’t stop him.”

 

Myka looked at Helena and nodded.

 

Sykes cleared his throat loudly. “Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds,” he said, obnoxiously,” but there is a reason we’re all here. Ms Wells, you may continue.”

 

Helena looked frantic. Myka tried to clear her head, to concentrate, but all she could see was Steve’s face, white against the dark blood on his head. It was too much, she could barely think.

 

Helena was directing the man in the chair, whose neck was caught in some sort of iron band. Above him was a blade which descended at each move he made. The blade descended one final time and Myka closed her eyes a moment too late, because the image of the blade embedding itself in the young man’s head would forever stay in her eidetic memory. Beside the picture of Steve’s white face, and Sam’s blood, and Helena’s head hitting the desk.

 

“Come along now, Agent Bering. I think Ms Wells needs a little encouragement to complete this task.”

 

Helena – her Helena – was holding the gun and her throat and dragging her to the chess board. She pulled the young man’s body out of the chair roughly and pushed Myka into place, closing the band of metal around her neck so that she was helpless.

 

“Now, Ms Wells, perhaps your memory will return when it is your…soulmate…in the chair?”

 

He laughed, and Helena flinched. Something about the way he said ‘soulmate’ so mockingly had upset Helena even more than killing Steve had.

 

The next few minutes were a nightmare. She made the moves that Helena directed her to make, and still the blade descended. Myka looked up and saw the rusty blade glinting in the gloom.

 

She turned her head as much as the band allowed and looked at Helena.

 

“I’m not going to die today, honey. You are going to take a breath, and you’re going to save my life. I trust you.”

 

Helena flinched at her last words, but steeled herself visibly and thought for a few moments. Her gun was still pointed at Myka, but her mind was elsewhere.

 

“Change the rules,” she muttered.

 

She told Myka to move the knight to checkmate the king, but it was an illegal move. Myka looked at her incredulously for a moment, but Helena looked certain, serene in that moment. Myka made the move. The trap reset, the metal band around her neck opened, and a shimmering portal appeared in the wall. Myka moved out of the chair, pulling Helena to her in a hug, ignoring Sykes and the gun in her hands. Helena returned it stiffly.

 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” was all she said.

 

Before she had a chance to turn around, Myka felt a bolt of electricity hit her in the back, and she passed out.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena opens the chess lock and, thereafter, takes matters into her own hands…A bit of a longer chapter because I couldn’t find a place to cut any earlier…

Helena’s mind was churning. Walter Sykes had kept her under the control of his riding crop – or rather, Cecil B. DeMille's Riding Crop – since she had almost attacked him on the plane. They had taken a short drive and walked through a restaurant and into a dank basement where he finally explained why he needed her, in particular, for whatever scheme he had in mind.

 

“This chess lock was designed by your old pal, Caturanga. He designed it to keep people out of the Warehouse unless they knew how to beat it. There are no records left from that time, and you are the only person alive to have known him. So here we are. You are the only one who has a chance of defeating it, Ms Wells.”

 

He used the crop to force her to pick up a gun and point it at his companion, Tyler. The young man followed Sykes’ order to sit in the chair in front of the chess board, and a metal band snapped around his neck.

 

“Now, Ms Wells, if you make a mistake, young Tyler here is going to die. I know you don’t want that, after your recent rehabilitation at the hands of Agent Bering.”

 

A soft noise from the other side of the room caught her attention, and her eyes involuntarily turned to the doorway. Sykes followed her eyes and then grinned, turning his wheelchair. He used the crop again and Helena’s arm went up, and the gun went off.

 

Steve – wonderful, serene Steve – fell to the floor with a hole in his forehead. She had killed him. And next to him stood Pete on one side and Myka on the other. She shouted to Myka that it wasn’t her, but Sykes ordered them into the room and used her again to fire a shot – a warning, this time, but it almost hit Myka. Helena protested and shouted that it wasn’t her, but the look in Myka’s eyes chilled her. She was devastated, and it was Helena’s fault. Steve was dead, and it was her fault. They should have let her rot in the Bronze sector for eternity. Tears blurred her vision.

 

She tried – she really did – to save Tyler’s life. But she had never once beaten Caturanga at chess, and her moves only dropped the blade further, until the poor boy’s head was cracked like a melon. Another death at her hands, another strike against her. She prayed fervently that this would soon be over, that someone – anyone – would have mercy on her, but if there was a god, he was not listening.

 

Sykes put Myka in the chess lock, forced Helena’s body to point a gun at her beloved and force her into yet another situation where her life was at stake. Madness filled Helena, fear and hatred and rage. She wanted to tear Sykes to pieces, but her body was not her own. She tried another move, and the blade dropped. And another. The blade fell. There was nowhere else for it to go but into Myka’s skull.

 

Myka looked at her and told her to think, told her that she trusted her. Helena closed her eyes and thought of Caturanga, his playful nature, how he had reacted when she said she would never carry a gun – ironic to think of that now, when she had one in her hand. He had told her to change the rules, and from that had begun the tradition of Warehouse agents carrying non-lethal weapons.

 

Change the rules.

 

She told Myka to make an illegal move, and watched as the woman she loved trusted her enough to do something that might kill her. Thankfully her memories of Caturanga had steered her in the right direction, and the blade retracted, the trap opened, and the portal in the wall was activated. Myka hurled herself at Helena, holding her tightly and thanking her. Part of Helena relished the contact, but the larger part was telling her to pull away, to run as far from Myka Bering as she could, before she could be hurt or killed by something that Helena did. She saw the confusion on Myka’s face as she pulled away, but that was all she saw before Pete raised his Tesla and fired at them both.

 

Helena awoke a while later – she had no idea how long – and she was lying on the cold, damp floor of the basement in Tai Po. There was a weight on her hip – Myka was slumped over her. Helena pulled herself up and grasped Myka by the shoulders, shaking her gently to wake her. Myka looked at her in confusion for a moment before awareness returned.

 

“Oh my God, Helena. He killed Steve. He killed him, and he was such a good man, he didn’t deserve that.” Myka dissolved into a storm of weeping and Helena pulled her close, comforting her as much as she could. But it was her fault Steve was dead. She had pulled the trigger, she had been the one who had agreed to the TiMER, she was the one who allowed herself to fall in love with Myka Bering. She should have returned herself to the Bronze sector as soon as she met the Warehouse agent. She deserved to be there.

 

Myka recovered her control after a few moments. Helena did not speak, but Myka talked enough for both of them, nervously filling the silence and saying that they needed to get to the Warehouse. Helena just nodded grimly, and they reset the chess lock with Myka in the chair, since she could remember exactly where each piece needed to go. They opened the portal and went through, Helena holding the gun and Myka holding her Tesla. Helena had a long look at the prone body of Steve Jinks before she stepped through, to remind herself of the price of failure, the price of being a friend to Helena Wells.

 

They emerged in the heart of the Warehouse. Sykes was nowhere to be seen. Helena thought grimly about her options for dispatching Sykes as quickly as possible. And Myka had to remain safe. She stepped close to the other woman, and took the Tesla from her unresisting fingers.

 

“Helena, what…”

 

Helena shot Myka with the Tesla from a safe distance and stepped forward quickly to catch her as she fell. She laid Myka gently on the floor of the Hong Kong side of the portal, and kissed her closed eyelids.

 

“Be safe, my darling.”

 

She used the controls on the wall to close the portal and went off in search of the Thuggee garrotte, a particularly nasty artefact that would take a person’s head clean off if it touched any part of their neck; no pressure need be applied. She found it quickly, thanking the gods for Claudia’s computerised inventory system. She also found a few other nasty surprises that she remembered from her time in Warehouse 12. She hoped she wouldn’t have to use them, but Walter Sykes had to die.

 

Her opportunity came more quickly than she’d thought. Sykes was still controlling Peter’s body using the riding crop. Peter looked frantic. There was an older woman there who Pete was holding at gunpoint. It was clear from his body language and his facial expression that she meant a lot to him. Helena did not show herself, but waited until the situation became clear. Sykes was ranting about the Warehouse and how they had done this to him. He was going to destroy the Warehouse and everyone in it.

 

He urged Pete forward with the crop, dragging the woman with him, and Sykes propelled his wheelchair forward. Helena took the opportunity to approach from behind silently, and wrapped the garrotte around his neck. It took only a moment to complete its work. Walter Sykes’ head was rolling along the floor of the Warehouse.

 

Peter released the woman, turning to see why Sykes had released them, and blanched as he saw what Helena had done. He looked at her and swallowed convulsively.

 

“HG. You…you took him out. Good for you.”

 

The woman stepped forward. She stepped around the wheelchair and the expanding pool of blood surrounding it, and held out a hand to Helena, who took it automatically.

 

“Jane Lattimer, Agent Wells. I’m a Regent of the Warehouse. I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances. Where is Agent Bering?”

 

“I left her on the other side of the portal. I thought it would be safer if she were as far away from Mr Sykes as possible.”

 

Jane looked at her carefully.

 

“Do you really think that was the best idea? Agent Bering is very resourceful; she could have been a great help.”

 

Helena looked at Jane Lattimer, ice filling her veins. Her eyes could see nothing but Steve Jinks’ white face.

 

“She could also have died horribly. I believed the risk was too great. She will awake in a few hours none the worse for wear.”

 

Helena wasn’t sure what the Regent saw in her face at that moment, but the woman stepped back, nodding warily.

 

At that moment Artie appeared from behind Pete.

 

“Why are the alarms still going off? Why is the barrier still up? Mrs Lattimer?”

 

Jane looked at him, waving a bracelet that decorated her right arm.

 

“I don’t know, Arthur. The danger to the Warehouse should have died with him.” She gestured to the dead man in front of her.

 

“Who did this? Who used the garrotte?” Artie growled.

 

“I did, Arthur. Mr Sykes here killed one of your agents and one of his own people. I judged it safest if he were dispatched as swiftly as possible.” Her tone was icy and distant.

 

“Yes, well, you would, wouldn’t you? Anyone who gets in your way might as well sign their own death warrant. Where is Agent Bering?”

 

“She remains safe in Tai Po.”

 

“Myka would never stay behind. What did you do to her?”

 

“I gave her a mild shock with a Tesla. She remains safe, which is the important thing.”

 

Artie was glaring at Helena with vehement hatred. Helena didn’t even look at him; she examined her nails and looked bored. She had done what was best for Myka, whether he saw it or not. And soon she would be gone, so he could think what he liked.

 

Mrs Lattimer’s voice cut into the silence.

 

“I have a bad vibe. Why is the alarm still going off if the danger is over? The barrier should be down.”

 

Helena began to search the dead man roughly for any artefacts or weapons he might have been carrying. She found nothing, so she dumped the headless body on the floor without ceremony and searched the chair. And there it was; a bomb made from an artefact.  Arthur recognised it, his face going white.

 

“What is it, Arthur?” she asked quietly.

 

He didn’t even bother to inject any venom into his tone.

 

“It’s a piece of masonry from the British House of Commons. During the Blitz, part of it was demolished. It absorbed the concussive force of the entire German Luftwaffe. It is an artefact nuclear device."

 

Mrs Lattimer asked,” Is there a way to stop it, Arthur?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Helena lifted the device from underneath the chair and took it to a nearby clearing in the aisles. She wanted to try rewiring the timer on the bomb, but the casing was impenetrable. Arthur suggested that they move to the Ovoid Quarantine, in the hope that it might provide some protection from the blast to the rest of the Warehouse. Peter, Mrs Lattimer and Artie took over, looking for ways to neutralise it. Helena went to a nearby junction box and checked to see if it was possible for her to reroute some of the barrier.

 

A minute later, she had rewired the right section and was able to detach two of the cables and touch them together, initiating a second barrier around Arthur, Pete and his mother. They were confused, and Arthur was suspicious, but she was not interested in him. She caught Pete’s eye.

 

“Peter. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her, and that she saved me.”

 

She took in a deep breath, and with it came the soft scent of apples. She smiled.

 

The world disappeared in fire and ash. 

 

*

 

She was about to approach Myka, to take the Tesla from her, to leave her on the Hong Kong side of the portal, when a voice came from behind her.

 

“Agent Wells.”

 

It was Arthur. He had a Tesla held loosely in his fingers, but it was not pointed at her. His voice was gentle.

 

“Can I speak with you for a moment?”

 

She was curious. This was the first time he had spoken to her with anything but venom in his tone. She shared a puzzled look with Myka and stepped forward, joining Artie a few feet away.

 

“Arthur?”

 

He spoke quickly, but in a low voice so that Myka did not hear.

 

“I know you were planning on using Myka’s Tesla to knock her out and leave her there in the Sanctum so she would be safe. I appreciate the sentiment but I need her to stay here. And I need you to get Ghandi’s dhoti and bring it to me. Please do not do anything that results in Sykes’ death – not yet. We don’t know how the bomb operates. I suspect that if we use the dhoti it will calm the hatred in the artefact but it’s only my best guess.” He was looking her directly in the eye, trusting her with this information that didn’t make any sense. How did he know about her plan to incapacitate Myka? She had only just decided on it. And what was this about a bomb?

 

“I know you have questions, Helena, but I need you to trust me, as I am trusting you.” His impressive eyebrows lowered slightly and his tone was gentle and caring. She was incredibly confused, but she simply nodded.

 

“Myka and I will deal with Sykes – you get the dhoti and meet us in a moment. Between us I think we can resolve this without losing anyone else – or the Warehouse.”

 

Helena took off into the aisles, leaving Arthur to explain to Myka what his plan was. She was able to find the artefact quickly thanks to Claudia’s impressive computerised system. She shook her head slightly; she remembered thinking that before. Déjà vu, she supposed. She picked up the dhoti carefully after donning a pair of gloves – these glove stations were also an innovation of Claudia’s. Myka was so proud when she spoke of the girl. It made Helena love her even more.

 

She followed the sound of Sykes’ rantings and was nearby when there were several flashes. Sykes was on the ground, having fallen from his wheelchair, and Pete and Mrs Lattimer were also unconscious on the floor. Myka was standing near Sykes, and Artie approached from the other end of the aisle, meeting Helena’s eyes sheepishly.

 

“I had Myka take out Sykes and I Tesla’d Pete and Mrs Lattimer. It was the best way to reduce the risk to all of us. Something I learned recently from an unexpected source.” He smiled at her and she returned it – a genuine smile, despite her utter confusion.

 

“The dhoti – put it on the bomb.”

 

She automatically went to the wheelchair that Sykes had recently vacated and pulled up the seat, placing the dhoti on the bomb. It didn’t occur to her that she shouldn’t know where the bomb was. The timer seemed to stutter for a moment, but then continued to tick down. There were just over five minutes remaining.

 

“Arthur – it’s not working.”

 

He looked panicked for a moment. Myka was standing nearby, looking from Arthur to her with confusion and worry drawn in the lines of her face.

 

“Helena, what’s going on?”

 

“There’s no time, love. It’s not working.”

 

Myka crouched next to her and the bomb, and despite her confusion, she looked at Helena and spoke calmly.

 

“You can do this, Helena. You know how to fix this. I trust you.”

 

And as they had in the Regent Sanctum, her words calmed Helena, and something occurred to her.

 

“Arthur – you said the artefact was imbued with the concussive force of the Luftwaffe. Could it be powered – activated by hatred? Perhaps we need to use the dhoti on the source?”

 

Artie’s eyes lit up.

 

“Of course! You’re a genius, Helena.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at that. She and Artie needed to have a long talk. But not yet. She lifted the dhoti carefully once again and this time draped it over Sykes’s prone form. She stopped breathing for a moment as the bomb timer continued, and then stilled.

 

There were three distinct sighs of relief. Helena pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. Something strange had happened here, and she needed rest and food before she was able to work out what. And why Arthur Nielsen had suddenly decided that she was worthy of his trust.

 

Myka enfolded her in an inelegant embrace where she sat on the floor. She returned it hesitantly, allowing herself to breathe Myka in. She wished so fervently that things could be different. Being with Myka felt so right, but she wouldn’t – couldn’t destroy the woman she loved so desperately.

 

She pulled away wordlessly, avoiding Myka’s eyes. Arthur was at Sykes’ side, holding the man’s hand as he passed away. He caught her eye.

 

“Some people can’t handle the peace, and just…drift away.” He patted Sykes’ hand and stood up.

 

Helena sighed. That sounded like a nice way to depart this earth – too nice for a man as evil as Sykes. She thought again of Agent Jinks, whose body was thousands of miles away. Myka took her hand, and she had to hold herself still to avoid flinching.

 

“Arthur. I need to speak with Mrs Frederic. Can you contact her?”

 

“There is no need, Agent Wells. I’m here.”

 

The voice came from behind them, where Mrs Lattimer and Peter were still slumped together, unconscious.

 

Helena turned, letting go of Myka’s hand as she did so.

 

“I have some information for you. Can we talk privately?”

 

Mrs Frederic raised an eyebrow.

 

“Of course. Follow me.”

 

Helena went after her without a backward glance. She could feel Myka’s eyes on her. She wanted so very much to turn and bury her face in Myka’s hair, to hold her close and never let go.

 

Mrs Frederic led her to the same room where she had met the Regents an eternity ago.

 

“What is it, Helena? What’s wrong?”

 

Helena sank into the chair opposite Mrs Frederic.

 

“Sykes. He found out about the TiMER, about the goblet.”

 

Mrs Frederic’s face fell, almost comically.

 

“How?”

 

“That, I don’t know. But he says he tainted the artefact using a letter from a man to…Jodie Foster, I think? I didn’t recognise the name of the gentleman.” She had watched a movie with Myka that starred Jodie Foster, which was why she had remembered the name. She sighed heavily and ran her fingers through her hair.

 

“He said that the artefact now chooses the antithesis of a soulmate – the worst possible match, one that will destroy both parties. He did not tell me when this was done – he seemed to be enjoying the pain he caused me by making me doubt my bond with Myka.” She buried her face in her hands. She did not want to lose control, but she loved Myka. She didn’t want to lose her.

 

Irene took her hand.

 

“You think that he tainted the artefact before you and Agent Bering met?”

 

Helena nodded, lifting her head to meet Mrs Frederic’s eyes.

 

“I don’t suppose you know when – you could tell me…if…” She trailed off uncertainly.

 

“I’m sorry, Helena. I don’t know. I will investigate, though, and find out. I promise you, we will get to the bottom of this as soon as we can. I am so sorry.”

 

Helena lost her control, and sobbed. Irene Frederic held her hand until she calmed herself.

 

“There is something else, Helena. Arthur – how did he know about the bomb? How did you? And why did his attitude change so dramatically for no reason?”

 

Helena thought for a moment, about how she knew where the bomb was instinctively, how Arthur had known just what to do…

 

“Time travel. We must have lived it before.”

 

Irene nodded, standing suddenly and beginning to pace.

 

“I am concerned, Helena. Time travel artefacts have serious consequences – the downsides appear to be roughly congruent with the benefits. You must watch him carefully.”

 

“Irene, I was going to leave – I don’t want Myka to be near me. She isn’t safe.”

 

“I will be here, Helena. I will keep watch. If I see any risk to Myka, I will pull you away. But for now you must be here, you must keep a close eye on Arthur for me.”

 

Helena bowed her head.

 

“Of course. Anything to keep her safe – to keep them all safe.”

 

“For what it’s worth, Helena, I don’t believe for one moment that you are anything but Myka’s true soulmate. You have proven yourself more than worthy.”

 

Irene left the room after squeezing Helena’s shoulder. Helena buried her head in her hands.

 

She wanted Myka to be hers; she wanted it so badly. But the likelihood of her being Myka’s best match was low. She was a murderer and she had wanted to destroy the world. Myka Bering, who had sacrificed so much, didn’t deserve any more pain. She would not be the one to ruin her. She breathed through her nose, calming herself as much as possible before going back to face Myka.

 

After a time she felt she had regained her equilibrium, and she walked uncertainly towards the aisle where she’d last seen Myka and Artie. Sykes’ body was gone, and the wheelchair with it. No-one was in the area, so she made her way slowly to the office, grateful for the additional time to steel herself. As she opened the door, a whirlwind in the form of Myka, Pete and Claudia hit her.

 

“HG!” Claudia was giddy and smiling.

 

“Artie told us you saved our asses!” That was Pete; he was crushing her half to death but she didn’t mind.

 

“Helena,” Myka’s voice was soft with relief. And with that, her control dissolved and she burst into tears for the second time in the space of an hour. Myka’s arm tightened around her shoulder, drawing her out of the room and through the umbilicus. Arthur’s soft voice, filled with concern, told the others to let them go.

 

“It’s okay, Helena, it’s over. You’re safe.”

 

Helena sobbed. It would never be over. Death and pain and mayhem followed her. Myka deserved better.

 

Myka leaned them both against the outer wall of the Warehouse, holding her tightly and kissing her hair. Helena pulled herself together and apologised.

 

“I’m so sorry Myka. I just…I thought…”

 

“It’s okay, Helena. Everyone is fine. Claudia has received permission to go to Hong Kong and bring Steve back to life with an artefact. Everything is going to be okay.”

 

Somehow, Helena was soothed. Despite everything that was in her mind, despite her terror that the goblet had chosen her to ruin Myka, she was soothed. She let herself relax in Myka’s arms. She was so soft and warm, so welcoming. Helena choked back another sob. She didn’t deserve this.

 

She pulled back, wiping her eyes.

 

“Thank you.” She said it simply, without meeting Myka’s eyes. She therefore didn’t see the confusion and pain that passed across Myka’s face.

 

“I’m fine now, thank you. I was overwhelmed.”

 

Myka smiled weakly. “They’re an enthusiastic bunch, and you’ve won them over. I’m sorry if they freaked you out.”

 

Helena chuckled softly.

 

“They are a wonderful bunch. I can see why you love them.” She leaned back against the wall, her head back, her eyelids closed against the searing sun.

 

“Artie really seems to have come round, huh?” Myka’s tone was questioning; she could practically hear the woman’s eyebrow lifting.

 

“Yes, he does rather. I wonder what changed his mind?” she said innocently. She dared a look at Myka’s face. Her lips were pursed and her eyebrow was quirked upwards.

 

“Hmm. Yeah.”

 

“Would you mind if we went to the B&B? I think I could do with some rest.”

 

“Of course, honey. Just let me go grab my keys and tell everyone where we’re going.” She leaned over and kissed Helena’s forehead, before opening the door and heading inside.

 

Helena breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t know how she was supposed to do this. To love Myka, to fall into her without restraint - it was too tempting. Being with her felt like peace, like happiness. And yet Sykes had ruined it, ruined her. She might never know if they were really soulmates; if the TiMER was tainted or not. She couldn’t take the risk, but she had to stay for now. How on earth was she going to do this?

 

Myka returned swiftly, her long legs carrying her to Helena’s side. She ushered Helena into the car. Helena feigned tiredness for the journey back, and said little, only smiling as Leena greeted her.

 

After using the bathroom and changing, she fell into bed with Myka pressed against her, and after listening to the beating of her own heart for what felt like an eternity, fell into an uneasy dream of death and burning. She woke with a start. The room was dark and still. Myka was deep in sleep, wrapped around her. Helena felt trapped, and fought to keep herself calm in the darkness that reminded her so much of the Bronze.

 

She slipped out from under Myka’s body carefully, managing not to wake her. She escaped to the kitchen, making herself a cup of strong tea. It was after 2 in the morning. She wandered to the library, settling herself with yet another book that Myka had recommended.

 

She was lost in the characters, finally not thinking about anything, when she was disturbed by a soft noise. The library door opened behind her and her cup was refilled with fresh tea. Leena placed a teapot on the table and sat opposite Helena, drinking from her own cup and waiting for Helena to speak.

 

“Leena. Did I wake you? I’m sorry. I thought I had been quiet.”

 

Leena smiled. Her face was, as always, serene and beautiful.

 

“You didn’t wake me – or rather, you didn’t wake me by making noise.”

 

Helena tilted her head in confusion.

 

“I could feel you – feel your pain, your fear. I can’t sleep when someone needs me; occupational hazard, I suppose.”

 

Helena frowned.

 

“I am so sorry, Leena. It was not my intention…”

 

Leena cut her off with a raised hand, wagging her finger at Helena playfully.

 

“You can’t apologise for having feelings, Helena. You’re not responsible for my gift.”

 

“No, I suppose I can’t apologise for that. But I am sorry that I’ve disturbed your rest.”

 

“It isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last, I’m sure. Don’t worry.” Leena’s face was so calm. Helena wondered what it must be like, to be so peaceful and happy all the time. 

 

“So what was it that woke you, specifically?”

 

“It’s hard to explain.” Leena frowned slightly, taking a sip of her tea and looking off into the distance. “It’s like the sound of something deep and low, that you can’t quite hear, but you can feel – like an engine? Do you know what I mean?” Helena nodded, and Leena continued. “It’s kind of like that, but it’s also somehow completely different. A different sense entirely.” She laughed a little, blowing on her tea to cool it. “I guess that’s not really helpful. Anyway, what I felt was like a pull, to come here, to see you. You’re in pain, you’re confused. I want to help, if I can.” She laughed again, and Helena joined in. Leena’s joy was contagious. “And if I don’t, we’ll only be here again tomorrow. So you might as well talk to me now!”

 

Helena smiled and ran her fingers through her hair. Her eyes grew distant.

 

“I don’t even know where to begin.” She sighed heavily.

 

“Myka. She loves you. That’s where you should always begin.”

 

Helena smiled despite herself. Then it faded.

 

“I wish it were that simple, Leena.” She sighed again, and Leena took another sip, waiting for her to continue.

 

“The TiMER device,” she waved the arm that held the device vaguely, “It’s powered by an artefact.”

 

Leena nodded.

 

“You knew?”

 

“Yes. Mrs Frederic told me when they first decided to use the goblet. The idea was to try to improve the world, person by person, bit by bit. The artefact only had one downside, which was kind of an upside, in that it made the new soulmates want to be with one another constantly during the first few weeks together. That’s why they came up with the furlough. They asked for my input after testing the goblet on a few people, and I told them what I saw when they met their soulmates. That I didn’t see any risk, and that I thought it would help improve lives. Claudia invented the interface – the part that allows the device to work without the blood physically being placed in the goblet. The interface is powered by a different artefact – I don’t know the details. Claudia didn’t know what she was inventing the interface for, of course – none of them know that the TiMER is a Warehouse device. But she’s a genius, that girl.” Leena smiled fondly.

 

Helena wasn’t sure whether to be angry or comforted by Leena’s involvement. In one sense it was a betrayal that the Warehouse organisation had decided to interfere in people’s lives this way. However, in another sense she could understand why they had decided to use the artefact. To allow people the happiness she and Myka shared – or should that be _had_ shared? – it couldn’t help but bring out the best in people. The fact that they were sitting here in a warm room rather than in a frozen wasteland was testament to that. Or was it? She sighed. For that was the root of her confusion.

 

“So what is it? Are things between you and Myka not okay?” Leena asked, her head tilted sympathetically.

 

“Things with Myka are…wonderful. Better than I could ever have dreamed of. I’ve never been happier.”

 

“But?”

 

“But. Walter Sykes. He tainted the goblet as part of his vendetta against the Warehouse, and he sadistically decided that he wouldn’t tell me when that happened. Probably to elicit just this sort of response. The taint, which should be being dealt with as we speak, if I know Irene Frederic, involves making a person meet the opposite of a soulmate – the one person they will love, initially, but who will, one way or another, destroy them. And I’m afraid that, given my history, I can’t help but think I am much more likely to be in that category than I am to be Myka’s soulmate.”

 

“Oh, Helena. You don’t need to worry about that. There is no way you’re anything other than Myka’s soulmate. I’ve seen a lot of couples since the TiMER device started working, and your bond is so visible, so pure – like I said when we first met, I have never seen anything quite like it. It’s a thing of beauty. I’m not saying there isn’t darkness in you, Helena, because we both know that would be a lie, but you are Myka’s soulmate. Being with Myka makes you a better person, but you also make her a better person. Before you came here she was rigid, uncompromising – sad. She was always so distant and professional. Pete had managed to break through a little of that, but since she met you, she is like a different person – a more complete person. So whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. You’re completely right for each other.”

 

Helena was torn between her desire to believe Leena and her conflicting feeling that she wasn’t worthy of the beautiful agent’s affections. Leena saw the look on her face and smiled softly.

 

“Do you believe in my gift, Helena?”

 

“I do, yes. I have no reason not to. I met someone in my own time who had similar gifts.”

 

“Well then, believe this. You and Myka are meant to be together. You can trust me. I would never do anything to hurt Myka.”

 

Helena smiled hesitantly.

 

“I know that. I do trust you, Leena. It’s just that I have realised recently that my instincts have led me astray, and I have experienced a lot of guilt as a result. I hurt people and I feel great shame about it. I only want Myka to be happy. The idea that I could destroy her, could cause her unhappiness – I can’t bear it. I would rather return to the Bronze sector. I think you know how strongly I feel about that experience, so I believe you will take my meaning.”

 

Leena’s eyes filled with tears.

 

“Helena, if you were going to be the person that destroyed Myka, do you really think that you would be thinking about sacrificing yourself in that way? About returning yourself to the hell you lived in for over a century, just to avoid hurting her? You love her, and she loves you. There is nothing tainted about your love for her. What happened in your past was awful but who you are now – you’re not that person. Myka saved you. Now go save her, and put this out of your mind. I promise you – whenever Mrs Frederic is able to find out what happened, she will confirm what I’ve said. Your bond is pure.”

 

Helena sat perfectly still for a moment, allowing Leena’s serenity to wash over her. She wanted to believe so much that she was Myka’s soulmate. But she was so afraid that she wasn’t. Perhaps it was time she allowed herself to be happy, even if it was for a limited time. Irene would investigate and find out when the artefact was tampered with, and she would tell Helena immediately. If it so happened that her bond with Myka was the wrong kind, she would take herself out of the situation immediately – she would go to the other side of the world, she would be Bronzed; anything to keep Myka safe.

 

“Will you…will you keep watch, Leena? You will tell me if anything changes, if the bond between us is wrong in any way?”

 

Leena smiled gently.

 

“Of course, Helena. I will tell you at the first sign of any change. But you don’t need to worry, I promise you.” She put her hand on Helena’s knee and squeezed reassuringly.

 

“Now go get some sleep, so I can go back to bed!”

 

“Thank you, Leena.”

 

Helena stood and Leena did too, enveloping Helena in a sudden hug.

 

“I have a great feeling about you, Helena. You’re going to change things around here, for the better.”

  
Helena squeezed Leena, and a feeling of pervading warmth overwhelmed her. She wanted so badly to make this place - these people - her home. She hoped fervently that Leena was right.

 

She made her way to Myka’s room quietly, to avoid disturbing anyone else. She slipped under the covers and Myka turned over, her arm gliding across Helena’s stomach and her face nuzzling into Helena’s neck.

 

“I love you,” she whispered sleepily.

 

Helena stayed awake for a while, her hand pressed to Myka’s chest, revelling in the strong heartbeat beneath the skin. She slipped into sleep without knowing it, and woke in the morning with Myka still wrapped around her. She remembered the first night they had shared a bed, and how Myka had warned her that she might awake wearing a Myka scarf. She had laughed, and flirted. Now she just revelled. Myka was holding her, and all was right with her world. For now.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Sykes. Helena and Myka talk about the TiMER and their possibly tainted bond.

The day that followed was exhausting. They talked, all of them, about what had happened when they were apart. Pete told Helena over breakfast about Myka taking on his mother, the Regent, when she said that Claudia couldn’t use the metronome to revive Steve.

 

“She was like a tiger, HG. My mom is terrifying, but she backed down. I’ve never seen her back down, not once. Myka said that Claudia deserved to bring Steve back, that Sykes had used the metronome for evil, but bringing Steve back was for good. She told my mom that we would all help work out whatever the downside was. She told her that the Regents have been running roughshod over agents for too long, and that it was time to collaborate and be open and honest.  She actually said the word roughshod.” He chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of pancakes and sausage that he had drenched with syrup and butter.

 

“I was damn impressed, HG. She has never, not once, opened her mouth to complain about her orders. She was, like, the most obedient agent ever. I think even my mom was impressed. She just said it was okay, and that she would help Claudia use the metronome, and she would deal with the other Regents. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

 

“That is…impressive, Peter. What do you think brought on the change in Myka?”

 

He smiled at her.

 

“You, HG. You. You made her open up. I love Mykes, and I know she’s changed a lot since she met me and we started working here, but meeting you – that’s changed her way more. I think it’s awesome.”

 

He beamed at her, a stray piece of pancake falling from his mouth. Helena suppressed a sigh at his dreadful table manners, but she couldn’t help smiling in return. He was such a good man. She hoped that he was right about the changes he perceived in Myka; namely, that they were good changes and not bad. Myka caught her eye then from across the table and smiled, her face open and filled with love. Helena smiled back, her face almost aching. She knew her expression must look the same – open, honest, loving. She hoped she was doing the right thing by staying.

 

After breakfast they cleared the table and Helena helped Leena to make tea and coffee. They spoke about what had happened when they were apart. Leena and Mrs Frederic had dealt with Marcus Diamond, the man who had apparently kidnapped her, but whose face she had never seen. He was a former policeman who had been killed, and was only alive because of the effects of the metronome that Claudia was now planning to use to revive Agent Jinks. Mrs Frederic had managed to stop Mr Diamond from hurting anyone else by stilling the metronome. But he had already activated the other part of Sykes’ plan – Helena hadn’t entirely been listening to that part, but she knew that he had somehow caused the force field to be initiated around the entire Warehouse, which also allowed a link between the Regent Sanctum and the Warehouse. Sykes’ plan was simple – he would retrieve his bracelet and then leave through the portal to the Regent Sanctum, leaving them all behind to perish in the bomb, along with the Warehouse itself. He had never reached the bracelet because of Artie’s intervention. Helena silently thanked whatever deities might be listening. Had the bomb gone off, the world would have destroyed itself slowly and painfully. She knew from her time at Warehouse 12 that Pandora’s Box was contained within the Warehouse, and if it had been destroyed, hope would have died with it. She understood why Arthur had taken the actions he had, because the consequences of not turning back time were too grave. She hoped that the down sides of whatever artefact he had used were not too serious. She caught his eye when the conversation died down, gesturing towards the library. He nodded and got up from the table slowly. Helena pushed her chair back with a small sigh. She was so tired. She smiled and kissed Myka’s temple before she followed Arthur.

 

What he told her was…horrifying, in a word. The worst had happened in the original timeline – everything had been destroyed. And the reason for his change in attitude towards her was astonishing. She had apparently gone through with her plan to incapacitate Myka and had left her in the Sanctum in Hong Kong, and, after discovering the bomb and that they had no way to disarm it, had sacrificed her own life to save Artie, Peter and his mother. She stared at him, open-mouthed, when he told her that.

 

“You asked Pete to tell Myka that you loved her, and that you were sorry. That’s when I knew that you weren’t the villain James had painted you to be. He wrote to me, you know, and sent me the pocketwatch that I used to locate Magellan’s Astrolabe.”

 

Helena raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“The artefact I used to go back in time. James told me that you would try to destroy the world, but that eventually you would save us. I believed the first part, but not the second. Clearly I should have. Myka wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who was beyond redemption. I am sorry, Helena. I misjudged you, harshly.”

 

He astonished her by enveloping her in a brief but crushing hug. They were standing opposite one another on the rug in front of the fireplace, both feeling too restless to sit, apparently.

 

“In the interests of being honest, Arthur, I should say that I did indeed plan to end the world when I re-entered it. But Myka – she saved me. I could never destroy a world that contained a woman like her.” She turned, leaning with one palm against the fireplace, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was waiting for an outburst, another threat to return her to the Bronze sector. It never came.

 

His voice was low and sympathetic.

 

“I can’t imagine what you went through, Helena. The loss of a child…it is unimaginable. I am so sorry.”

 

Myka’s friends – no, her family – they were a constant source of astonishment to her. Even when she confessed to madness and deeds so despicable that they shamed her to the bone, they seemed to see through her to the pain beneath.

 

“Thank you, Arthur. It is indeed one of the most painful things a person can experience. But it is in the past, and my daughter would want me to live. Myka reminded me of that.”

 

She straightened and turned to Artie.

 

“This artefact that you used, the astrolabe. Do you know what the down side is?”

 

Artie furrowed his impressive eyebrows.

 

“I had to take the astrolabe from a group of monks known as the Brotherhood of the Black Diamond. One of their number, a Brother Adrian, told me that in using it, I would create an evil of my own making. He also told me that anyone who knew would be at risk, but since you already knew, I couldn’t very well lie to you. That’s all I know.”

 

Helena frowned.

  
“I do wish he’d been more specific. That doesn’t give us much to go on.” She was already in research mode, searching her memory for any references to Magellan, an astrolabe, or an evil of one’s own making. Artie interrupted.

 

“I did want to ask for your help with something, Helena. I had a…well, a vision, I suppose. When I used the astrolabe. It was of a dagger. Francesco Borgia’s dagger, to be precise. In the vision, Claudia was stabbing me with it. I think…I think it might be her, this evil. I know she’s not my daughter, but I like to think that I’ve had some effect on her life, and I suppose that she could be considered my daughter in some way. Do you think that it’s possible that she could be the evil, since she is, in a way, of my own making?”

 

Helena considered. Artie was babbling. She didn’t know the man well, but he didn’t seem like a babbler. He was obviously very frightened and it made her uneasy.

 

“I will, of course, research the dagger. But Claudia? I don’t believe that young lady is capable of any such thing. We will keep a very close eye on her in the meantime, of course.”

 

He looked relieved, but began to pace the room after a moment, unsettling Helena yet again.

 

“Arthur?”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“I think you should tell Mrs Frederic what you’ve told me. She needs to be fully informed about what’s happening.”

 

He stopped pacing with a wince.

 

“Really? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

 

“I don’t see how it can be avoided, myself. She is the Caretaker. She needs to be aware of what has happened in her warehouse. If nothing else, perhaps your story will provide reassurance to her that her faith in me has not been misplaced. Rather a selfish reason, I appreciate, but I believe it would do Myka the world of good to know that you and Mrs Frederic trust me.”

 

Artie nodded at that, waving an arm irritably.

 

“Fine, fine. I will contact her and let you know. We can tell her together.”

 

Helena took that as a dismissal, and returned to the table with Pete, Myka and Leena. Leena got up to make tea and pointedly offered Helena her seat, which was next to Myka’s. Helena smiled gently.

 

Myka smiled at Helena as she sat next to her. She leaned over and kissed Helena softly.

 

“Whoa, Mykes. Keep it PG, okay? Claudia will be home soon!” Pete shouted playfully, pretending to hide when Myka glared at him.

 

Myka punched him in the arm. It seemed to be a frequent response of hers to Pete’s teasing. Helena chuckled. Myka moved her chair a little closer and slipped her arm round Helena’s waist. Helena leaned in to the contact, enjoying the warmth.

 

“You okay, honey?”

 

Helena smiled. “Yes, love. I’m fine.”

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“I suppose I have had some rather unsettling news,” Helena murmured. “Can we talk about it later, in private?”

 

Myka pulled her a little closer. “Of course.” She kissed Helena’s hair and then returned her attention to Pete, who was engaging Leena in a debate about who was cooler, pirates or astronauts. Helena settled in to enjoy the show. Leena teased Pete mercilessly, and Helena found the woman’s sly humour endlessly amusing. They finally decided that pirates beat astronauts, but that space cowboys were cooler than pirates. Helena couldn’t work out, initially, what the relative temperatures of astronauts or pirates had to do with anything, but she finally realised that coolness was in fact a measure of their popularity or some such nonsense. She enjoyed their banter very much. She had been a social butterfly of sorts in London, in her own time, but the way that this particular group of people related to one another was warm and loving and endearing, different from the stiff-upper lip forced jollity of her time. It filled her with something she couldn’t quite name – something akin to hope but also like love. She didn’t care to define it, however. She simply let herself enjoy being part of it, being here with Myka. It was wonderful and she felt a peace in that moment that she thought would make her daughter happy to see.

 

A few hours later, they had exhausted the possibilities of conversation about astronauts, space cowboys and even the escapades (sexual and otherwise) of Victorian time travellers, and they all retired to their separate rooms. No-one seemed to want to be alone, particularly, but they were rambling and tired. Arthur had locked himself in one of the other rooms in the B&B, and the distant sound of a piano had accompanied their conversation for a while. Leena had lifted her head at the first note and smiled fondly.

 

“He always plays when he needs to think,” she murmured softly.

 

Finally, Helena and Myka found themselves alone. They sat side by side on Myka’s bed.

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s happening? What happened yesterday?”

 

Myka’s voice was soft, but she seemed a little withdrawn. Helena didn’t know if she should explain all of it. She didn’t know how Myka would react to news that she had died in an alternate timeline.

 

“Don’t you think I deserve the truth, Helena?” Helena looked at her, searching her face.

 

“Oh course I do, love. I am just concerned about how you will react.”

 

“Are you leaving, Helena?”

 

The question came out of nowhere. Helena gaped.

 

“What do you mean? Leaving?”

 

“You know what I mean, Helena. Since yesterday, since I saw you in the Regent Sanctum. You’ve been different, keeping yourself apart from me. I can read you well enough to see that.” Myka’s mouth was tight, her eyes full of pain.

 

“I’m not leaving, Myka. I’m here.”

 

“For how long, Helena? Until you get scared again? Until you decide that I’m better off without you? Is that how it’s going to be? Because I would rather you just did it than stay here with me, making me happy, and then pulling the rug out from under me later.”

 

“You…want me to leave?” Helena’s heart constricted. This was not what she had expected, and the pain of it made her head spin.

 

Myka laughed, but there was bitterness and pain in her eyes.

 

“Are you crazy? Of course I don’t _want_ you to. I thought I had made that clear to you in every way possible. But you keep looking at me, giving me those eyes, and I can see what you’re thinking – that you’re bad for me. And you’re withdrawing from me, getting ready to run. I can see it.”

 

Helena sighed, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands.

 

“I wish you didn’t know me so well, Myka.”

 

Myka pulled Helena’s hands away from her face and used them to turn her body so that she was facing Myka.

 

“I do know you, Helena. As well as anyone can be expected to in this length of time. I love you, and I want you here, with me, forever. Why are you pulling away? I thought we’d dealt with this.”

 

“We did, Myka. I meant what I said, I promised you I wouldn’t run. But Sykes – he…” She gritted her teeth in frustration.

 

“What did he do, Helena? Did he hurt you?”

 

“No, love. The only way he could possibly hurt me is by hurting you. And we managed to avoid that, thankfully. But…well, I should start at the beginning, I suppose. The TiMER.”

 

Myka looked at her quizzically.

 

“What does the TiMER have to do with anything?”

 

“Sykes had a soulmate, and because of her, the darkness that filled him as a result of his early contact with the Collodi bracelet was held at bay. But she was killed in an accident, and he went entirely mad, I think, as a result. He blamed the Warehouse for everything, and he investigated the TiMER device too, much as we have been doing. He suspected artefact involvement, and he found it.” 

 

“It is an artefact? Which one? The mask or the goblet? Who is using it?”

 

Helena filed her own questions away for later – a _mask_?

 

“I believe that the Warehouse – the Regents – are the ones who decided to use the artefact. Even Leena was involved, by all accounts. The downside of the artefact – Anthony and Cleopatra’s goblet – is an intense desire to be with your soulmate for the first few weeks after meeting. Not the worst downside, in my opinion.” Helena winked at Myka.

 

“In any case, Mr Sykes decided to taint the goblet, using another artefact that would identify and select the worst possible match for a person – the one person in the world for whom one would have a strong attraction, even love - but the love would ruin both partners.”

 

Myka’s eyes widened.

 

“And you think – you think that applies to us? Are you crazy?” she asked, incredulously.

 

“Perhaps I am. But it makes sense, Myka. Because you are such a wonderful person, and I am…who I am. I wanted to end the world, love.”

 

“Helena…” Myka’s tone was gentle, chastising.

 

“I know. I love you so much, Myka, that the thought of hurting you – the thought of being the reason you were hurt – it kills me. Leena came to me last night, however, and we talked. She believes very strongly that Sykes tainted the goblet after we were matched.”

 

Myka huffed out a sigh of relief.

 

“Then we have nothing to worry about, Helena. Leena can read our auras, she would know if something was wrong with our bond.”

 

Helena ran her hand through her hair again. Myka watched its progress with fascination. It made Helena smile. Myka was mesmerised by her hair, it was adorable.

 

“I trust Leena, my love. But I don’t trust myself, I know you understand that. Mrs Frederic is investigating the matter. There have been a cluster of murders related to the TiMER, thanks to Mr Sykes. Now that they know why, they can fix it, and hopefully pinpoint the date it was tampered with. Which will hopefully clear matters up and ease my mind.”

 

Myka pulled Helena to her, whispering in her ear.

 

“You are my soulmate, Helena. I love you. I have no doubts, none at all.”

 

Helena shivered. Myka had the ability to reduce her to a quivering wreck with a whisper. It was embarrassing. But she was addicted. Myka kissed her softly just below her ear, letting her tongue trail along Helena’s jaw.

 

“If you don’t stop that, Myka, we’re not going to get to finish this conversation…” Helena whispered.

 

“And do you want to finish this conversation?” She bit Helena’s neck gently.

 

“Not really…” the woman was driving her wild with just kisses and whispers.

 

“But we should.”

 

Myka sighed in resignation, leaving a trail of goosebumps on Helena’s neck.

 

“So, tell me the rest.”

 

Helena scooted up on the bed, removing her shoes and throwing them on the floor in a careless way that would have earned her filthy looks from her father. She smiled at the thought. She settled her back against the headboard and Myka moved to put her head in Helena’s lap, stretching her long body out on the bed. Helena took a moment to enjoy the sight. Myka, even in sweatpants and a t-shirt, was magnificent.

 

She told Myka about the alternate timeline, receiving a glare of incredible intensity when she confessed to using a Tesla on Myka.

 

“It wasn’t me, Myka. Well, it was, but you can’t possibly blame me for something that happened in an alternative timeline!”

 

From the look that Myka gave her then, apparently she could very easily blame Helena for it. Helena ploughed on, in the hope that Myka might not focus on that tiny detail.

 

“You killed him?”

 

Helena nodded, ashamed.

 

“We’ll talk about that later.”

 

Finally, she explained that she had re-routed the barrier to save Artie, Pete and Jane Lattimer. Myka sat up and turned, staring at her.

 

“You died?”

 

Helena shrugged.

 

“Apparently.”

 

Myka stood up and started pacing, her fists clenching and unclenching.

 

“You can’t keep dying on me, Helena!”

 

“Well, it was hardly my fault, love,” Helena protested mildly.

 

“You could have brought me with you. I might have come up with a way to disarm the bomb.”

 

Helena winced. Apparently Myka wasn’t going to overlook that tiny detail.

 

“But I did – in this timeline!”

 

“Only because Artie told you to! You were going to do it otherwise, weren’t you?”

 

Helena threw her hands up in the air in frustration. “Well excuse me for wanting to keep you safe, Myka!”

 

“I don’t want to be safe if it means you dying, Helena!” Myka was livid.

 

“I will never make a different choice, Myka. I will always choose to save you. You might as well get used to that, because it will never change. And if it means I have to be a monster to protect the people I love, I will be the monster.” She was almost growling.

 

“Helena…” Myka had tears in her eyes.

 

“No, Myka. Don’t ‘Helena’ me. I love you and I will protect you with my last breath. You are my world; without you I would not exist. Do not ask me to make a promise I can’t keep.”

 

Myka cut off any further conversation with her mouth on Helena’s. She kissed Helena fiercely and deeply, making her head spin.

 

“You have got to stop dying, Helena.”

 

Helena thought about that afterwards, because she thought at more than one point that she might die from what Myka was doing to her – in the best possible way.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artie becomes erratic, and Myka and Helena search for Francesco Borgia's dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic is nearly done - perhaps 3 or 4 more chapters. Or 5. Just so you know... Also, I have been re-reading the earlier parts of this fic this week to make sure my internal continuity is correct, and I have realised how many small details I have inadvertently absorbed from another fic – that is, The Long Way Home by Roadie. Details like Helena having known someone with Leena’s gift, and her having known Mrs Frederic back in her own time are entirely borrowed from Roadie’s amazing fic, which I completely recommend reading. So I apologise to you, Roadie, for borrowing your headcanon, and I salute you for making it all so realistic that I forgot it wasn’t part of the show in the first place.

 

* * *

Myka made love to Helena with a ferocity that startled even her. The idea that this woman, this insane, beautiful, incredible woman, had once again sacrificed herself willingly for someone else – people who Myka loved – had come as a terrible shock. While her heart swelled with pride at Helena’s generosity of spirit, with the truth that she was indeed as good a soul as Myka thought her to be, part of her just wanted to throttle the woman for selling her own life so cheaply. Afterwards Helena slept deeply, which was not at all surprising, because Myka had taken no prisoners in her desire to lose herself in Helena’s body, and had thoroughly exhausted her as a result. But Myka couldn’t sleep. Because Helena had died, and Myka knew her well enough to know that her sacrifice was for Myka alone, despite her being safe in Hong Kong at the time. Myka was also disturbed by Helena’s willingness to plumb the depths of her own darkness to save Myka. It was not exactly normal behaviour to knock out your partner with the steampunk equivalent of a taser, however humanely, to keep them out of danger. Nor was it normal to garrotte one’s opponent, no matter how evil. Myka stayed awake for hours, her mind turning over the things that had happened in the last few days.

 

They had been together for less than two months, she and Helena, and during that time Helena had died, or almost died, twice. Myka’s life, and those of her fellow agents and the whole world had been threatened. It was not a normal beginning to a relationship. It was typical of this new life in which Myka had found herself, however. Endless wonder was all very well, but it was harder now to think about doing her job without thinking about what she could lose – what she had almost lost already. It was odd, this feeling. Even with Sam, even _after_ Sam, she hadn’t felt this way. She loved Helena so much that it utterly terrified her. And the fact that Helena was so intent on sacrificing herself for the greater good was frustrating. Yes, the things that Helena had planned, and some of the things she’d done in her grief and madness, were monstrous. But who she was at her core was a good person, a person who had loved too fiercely, and she needed to forgive herself for it, for Myka’s sake if not her own. Because if she didn’t, one of these situations she threw herself into so cavalierly would end with her death and it would be permanent, and Myka didn’t know if she would survive losing Helena.

 

She drifted off a while later, her face buried in Helena’s hair. She woke up multiple times that night, tears leaking from her closed eyelids as she woke from too-realistic dreams of Helena disappearing in flames.

 

Steve and Claudia returned the next morning, and they had a joyful reunion with their previously fallen colleague. Helena in particular was extremely relieved, since it had been by her hand, technically, that Steve had perished. He took her to one side and talked to her earnestly for a while, after which they hugged and both wiped tears from their eyes. Myka was relieved; she knew that Steve’s death had weighed heavily on Helena’s conscience, even though it was in no way her fault. Artie had found some information about the metronome that had revived Steve, and it indicated that he needed to go back home to New Jersey to see his mother, in order to break his link with the metronome. He and Claudia were due to leave the following morning.

 

The next few days were spent at the Warehouse researching Magellan, the astrolabe in particular, and any mention in the Archives of an evil of one’s own making. Myka was impressed and more than a little turned on by Helena’s dedication to the research, and to the unlikely leaps her sharp mind made. They found multiple references to the astrolabe, and the Brotherhood of the Black Diamond, but none of it explained what the evil might be. Myka researched Francesco Borgia’s dagger, and found several references to it in different parts of Italy, Spain and even in Illinois. She and Helena packed for a trip, because she wasn’t letting Helena out of her sight again, not until this astrolabe business was resolved. She had the pleasure of taking Helena shopping for clothes before their trip, and she revelled in watching Helena’s enthusiasm at the variety of fashions on display, and in particular the underwear. The wisps of silk and satin and lace that she chose made Myka blush, but she was _very_ supportive of Helena’s choices. Far be it for her to tell anyone how to dress. It was nothing to do with her incredibly strong desire to see Helena wearing the aforementioned wisps of fabric, of course.

 

They went to Illinois first. An exorcism of some kind had taken place a decade ago with a dagger that looked similar to the one in the illustrations they had found in the Warehouse Archives. It was, on inspection, nothing at all like it, and was in fact a cheap replica of something from the Lord of the Rings. Myka sighed when she saw the damn thing, but it was par for the course on an artefact retrieval.

 

They went to Rome next, to a museum that supposedly held some of Borgia’s belongings. He had died there and some relic of his had been saved after her death. Unfortunately there was no sign of a dagger. There was, however, a diary of his in a glass case. Helena flirted with the museum guard shamelessly while Myka carefully took it out and took pictures of the pages. They returned to their hotel room and Myka read the pages while they sat in the bath together. Or rather, she tried to read, but Helena distracted her so thoroughly that she almost dropped her cellphone in the bathwater. Thankfully she was able to drop it gently onto a towel on the bathroom floor before she lost the use of her limbs entirely under Helena’s ministrations.

 

The diary was in Spanish, Borgia’s native language. Luckily Myka was fluent. She typed out a translation on her laptop, and while it seemed like a fairly innocuous account of his daily life, Helena said immediately that it was a code. She started muttering to herself about something called the Vigenère cipher, and Myka decided to retreat and continue with the series of books Claudia had recommended aeons ago. She occasionally watched Helena over the edge of her book, however. She was so adorable when she was caught up in something. Her brow was furrowed and she kept tucking her hair behind her ears as she wrote furiously with a pencil on reams of paper that she had requested from the hotel concierge. She occasionally asked Myka for clarification on her translation of this word or that, but finally she was finished, and she brandished the papers triumphantly.

 

“Myka, I have it! The dagger is hidden in the ancestral home of the Borgias in Valencia.”

 

Myka kissed her into insensibility.

 

The following morning they were on a flight to Valencia. Myka watched Helena carefully as they took off. As usual the former inventor was a mix of elated and terrified by the flight. She clutched at Myka’s hand fiercely at times, and at others she talked grandly about how she would have invented a working prototype of a plane had she been given the time and opportunity. She had invented a rocket, after all. Myka made a mental note to ask her about that another time.

 

The journey wasn’t long, a fact for which Myka was incredibly grateful. Europe was so small in comparison to the States. Travel from one country to another took less time than it did to cross one state in a lot of cases. Myka was glad of it. They hadn’t been able to get extra legroom and her legs were cramping.

 

They took a cab from the airport directly to the Ducal Palace of Gandia. It took about an hour to get there, and Helena snored the whole way, apparently exhausted by her code breaking of the previous evening. Myka watched her in amusement. Helena’s head was thrown back, for once not looking at all elegant, with her hair half over her face, and her snores making her cheeks puff out. It was adorable. Myka took a couple of pictures with her phone, for her own amusement, and to share with Pete, Steve and Claudia later.

 

When they reached the Palace, they went quickly to find the small chapel that contained an ornate crucifix in which Borgia had hidden the dagger centuries before. They followed the instructions Helena had decoded, pressing separate sections of the crucifix in a particular order and then twisting the base 90 degrees before the back popped open. To Myka’s relief, the dagger was still there, in the crosspiece of the crucifix. She put it in a neutraliser bag, just in case, and they called another cab to take them to a hotel. They had decided to stay overnight before heading back to South Dakota. All the travel was exhausting and there was no pressing reason for them to return straight away. Myka went to take a shower as soon as they reached their hotel room.

 

*

 

Helena decided to contact Mrs Frederic when they got settled, but as she kneeled down to take Myka’s Farnsworth out of her small suitcase, there was a polite cough behind her. Of course.

 

“Mrs Frederic, welcome. Can I get you some tea?” She was proud that her voice did not waver in the slightest. She might, finally, be getting used to the Caretaker’s mysterious appearances.

 

“No thank you, Helena, I had some tea with Leena just a moment ago. Now, what is it you want to talk to me about?”

 

Helena sat on the bed and Mrs Frederic took the chair opposite.

 

“We have retrieved Francesco Borgia’s dagger. You will remember during our conversation a few days ago that Artie believed Claudia would use the dagger on him.”

 

“And what do you think, Agent Wells?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

Helena pursed her lips.

 

“I may not be the best person to ask, Irene. I don’t know Arthur particularly well. However, he seems paranoid and somewhat erratic. Having been a little…less than well, mentally speaking, myself, I believe I can see signs that something is not right.”

 

Mrs Frederic’s brow furrowed.

 

“I think you are correct, Agent Wells. Arthur is not himself. As you and I discussed, the downsides of any artefact dealing with time travel are likely to be fairly…extreme. I would hate for us to give Arthur the dagger only to find that it is part of some nefarious plan of his or someone else’s. What do you think?”

 

Helena thought carefully for a moment.

 

“I believe we should tell Arthur that we were unsuccessful in retrieving the dagger, but that we will keep trying. I also believe that we should hide the astrolabe. During our meeting the other day, there was something a little unhinged in his eyes when it was mentioned.”

 

Mrs Frederic nodded. Their meeting with Artie had been unusual, to say the least. He was a brusque and difficult man at the best of times, but this behaviour was different, even for him. He stuttered and muttered to himself like a madman, his eyes wide. He was excessively jumpy.

 

“I believe I know exactly the person to take care of that, Helena. In the meantime, I will have a detail nearby at all times to take action, should it be needed, to subdue Arthur or anyone else who might be involved in whatever is going on here. Can I rely on your co-operation?”

 

Helena smiled. “Of course, Irene. You have my word.”

 

Mrs Frederic smiled. The bathroom door clicked open and Myka emerged wearing an oversized t-shirt and loose yoga pants.

 

“Who are you talking to, Helena?”

 

Helena didn’t even bother turning her head to see where Mrs Frederic had gone, she just smiled.

 

She explained her conversation with Mrs Frederic in detail, and Myka agreed with their conclusions. They decided to talk to Claudia about putting Artie under surveillance. They also agreed that one of them would have the dagger on their person at all times, and that they would research the uses of the dagger extensively.

 

After a restful night in a Valencian hotel, they made their way back to the Warehouse. When they got there, some considerable time later, Artie dragged Helena away from Myka, babbling about Brother Adrian and how he had threatened Artie and was going to hurt them all. Helena calmed him as best she could, wondering how she had suddenly become Artie’s confidante. After a time, she was able to convince him that they would find this Brother Adrian and deal with any threats as a team. He calmed down and wandered off into the body of the Warehouse, muttering all the while.

 

Helena rejoined Myka in the office and, when Myka asked her what was wrong, she said, “Nothing, dearest,” with her most insincere smile. Myka raised an eyebrow but when Helena slightly widened her eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly, she simply nodded and they went off to find Claudia. When they reached her, Helena gave her a giant hug, and pressed some paper into her hands, whispering in her ear.

 

“Come to Myka’s room later.”

 

Claudia’s eyes widened, but she blushed and stammered as she normally did in Helena’s company, giving Myka a big hug and acting her normal awestruck self. They, in turn, acted like the couple in love that they actually were. They were all smiles and they chatted about the retrieval operation that was still going on in Egypt in their absence. Pete and Steve (now no longer dependent on the Metronome) had returned to Egypt while Myka and Helena were off hunting the dagger.

 

“Just us girls, then,” said Helena brightly.

 

They headed back to the B&B. They ate dinner as they normally did, and Myka slipped a note to Leena as they made tea in the kitchen together. They sat and had a pleasant evening. Artie was there and he was mostly convivial and relaxed after his talk with Helena, but he occasionally jumped as if someone had let off a firework beside his ear. Helena watched him carefully and noticed many unsettling signs in his behaviour. He seemed like his normal self, albeit a little more cheerful than usual, but at times something calculating and shrewd appeared in his eyes. Something was definitely wrong.

 

They met quietly in Myka’s room in the early hours of the morning. Claudia had, at Helena’s request, swept the room with some sort of bug-finding equipment and had found none. They were able to speak freely and they explained what had happened with the astrolabe and the alternate timeline. Claudia watched Helena with even more awe than before as she explained her sacrifice matter-of-factly. Leena just looked a little nauseated.

 

They also explained that they believed there might be something wrong with Artie as a result of the astrolabe. Leena interjected at this point to say that his aura was erratic and strange. She agreed to keep an eye on him when possible, and that she would make up reasons to be at the Warehouse, if necessary, to do so.

 

Claudia was excited at the opportunity to show off her inventions to Helena. She had recently designed some nano-cameras that she could ‘seed’ around the warehouse using a drone (also of her own invention). They arranged to set up a feed from the nano-cams to an offsite server that Artie wouldn’t have any knowledge of or access to. Claudia also said that she could bug Artie’s glasses so they would always be able to track him and see whatever he was seeing.

 

They went to bed a short time later, but Helena had trouble nodding off. Artie’s behaviour was unsettling her. That he was so erratic was worrying, but it was the way he had looked occasionally over dinner – shrewd, calculating – that concerned her the most. It reminded her of the face she’d seen in the mirror over a century ago - the face she had worn when she was planning the hunt for her daughter’s murderers. She was so very afraid that Artie’s plans would end in tragedy. If something happened to Myka, she knew she wouldn’t be able to control the darkness that lurked in the distant corners of her soul. She reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. She didn’t want a reminder of the Bronze sector, not that night. Myka rolled over, protesting sleepily at the light, but she nuzzled into Helena’s neck and threw her long limbs over Helena’s body. With the light and the warmth of Myka’s body to remind her that she was alive and real, Helena was eventually able to drift off.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are actually nearing the end of this little tale of mine. The content of this particular chapter is a bit harrowing, so consider yourself warned.

Over the next few days they managed their bugging operation; Claudia rose to the occasion admirably. She used a small drone to drop a few of the nano-cameras in and around every aisle. They were programmed to reproduce until the Warehouse had eyes everywhere. Artie’s glasses also received a tracker upgrade and were fitted with a tiny camera that recorded sound and vision and sent it to a secure off-site server. They all had access to the feed and they took turns to keep watch over the increasingly erratic senior agent. A number of days after the cameras were installed, Artie burst in to the B&B during dinner and started shouting about Brother Adrian appearing in the Warehouse. Helena took him to the library to calm him and Leena made some strong coffee with a shot of bourbon in it to relax him. In the meantime, Myka caught Claudia’s eye and they went upstairs to check through the surveillance footage of the Warehouse and Artie. What they found was disturbing, to say the least. That afternoon Leena had been re-siting some artefacts which were ‘unhappy’, as she put it, and Artie had followed her for about an hour, staying far enough away to avoid being seen or sensed by the innkeeper. It was not only the stalking that was disturbing, however. He was muttering under his breath and, after some adjustments, Claudia was able to clean up the audio feed enough that they could hear what he was saying.

 

He was muttering that Leena was in league with the Brotherhood of the Black Diamond, that he needed to watch her, and that she may need to be put down for the greater good. There were some other unintelligible noises, but what they had heard was enough to utterly terrify Myka. She shared a wide-eyed look with Claudia and then took off downstairs at a flat-out run. She entered the library with her breath coming in gasps, only to enter a scene of quiet domesticity. Helena was talking to Artie calmly and Leena was sipping some tea. She raised an eyebrow at Myka’s dishevelled appearance, and Myka attempted a reassuring smile. Leena frowned then at whatever she could see in Myka’s aura, but Myka simply shook her head, mouthing ‘later’ when she was sure Artie wasn’t looking.

 

She retreated from the library after sharing a long look with Helena. She returned upstairs but stopped by her room to take her gun and her tesla from her small safe and put them on her belt. She put a long woollen sweater over the top to conceal the weapons and then returned to Claudia’s room. She quickly explained that everyone was fine, but that they needed to get in touch with Mrs Frederic as soon as possible. Claudia called the Caretaker on her Farnsworth and quickly explained the situation. Mrs Frederic looked worried, which worried Myka even more.

 

“Have you made any progress in researching the dagger, Agent Bering?” Mrs Frederic asked suddenly.

 

“We’ve been working on setting up the surveillance mostly, Mrs Frederic. But I will get on it immediately.”

 

“Be sure that you do, Myka. Things are escalating quickly. We do not want anyone to be hurt - or worse.”

 

With that, the enigmatic Caretaker signed off. Myka sighed. It was going to be another long night.

 

“Claudia, we need to start mounting a guard or something at this point, or someone is going to get hurt. Do you have any inventions or ideas that we could use to protect Leena?”

 

Claudia nodded. “I think I have a few ideas. Let me have a think. You go and join them in the library again for now, and you can be their protection. I would call Pete and Steve back but they’re out on a retrieval now. There have been a few strange pings recently – things that should be in the Warehouse are appearing out in the world.” She stopped for a moment, tilting her head thoughtfully, and then continued. “I guess we know why, now.”

 

Myka nodded, chewing her lip. She couldn’t blame Artie, it’s not like they hadn’t all done bizarre things while under the influence of an artefact, but to hurt Leena? What was wrong with him? And how did they fix it? She decided she would work on her research after Artie went to bed. The dagger was very likely to be the key to all of this, given that he wanted it so badly.

 

She went back to the library via the kitchen, making a pot of tea and bringing it with her. She filled a cup for Helena, who took it gratefully, clearly a little frazzled after dealing with Artie’s ranting. He had calmed down a great deal, thankfully. Myka grabbed a book at random and sat in her favourite chair, sipping her tea and watching Artie carefully as she pretended to read. She had her tesla on her right hip, within easy reach. If Artie made one threatening move towards any of them she would have to shock him. Leena was watching Myka, she noticed. She gave the intuitive woman a reassuring smile, which seemed to work. Perhaps her resolve to protect them all showed in her aura. She wasn’t really sure what Leena saw, but she smiled and seemed a little happier after their silent conversation.

 

Helena and Artie were still talking in low, urgent voices. After a while, however, the whiskey kicked in and Artie’s eyelids started to droop. Leena and Myka accompanied him to his room and Myka made sure he was asleep before she left. Helena followed her and Leena to Claudia’s room. They wordlessly watched the footage of Artie following Leena, and Myka told the other women about their conversation with Mrs Frederic.

 

They decided that Leena would be wearing the Corsican vest from now until this situation was resolved. (Helena had given the Regents enough information from her own research that it, too, had been retrieved, in Fort Lauderdale, of all places.) Claudia and Leena agreed to go and pick it up from the Warehouse first thing in the morning, before Artie woke. Leena and Claudia talked briefly and agreed that they would sleep in the same room for a while for protection. Claudia had assembled an impressive array of tesla-related weaponry, including grenades and mini-teslas. If Artie decided to launch an attack in the early hours of the morning, they would be well protected. Helena and Claudia also set up rudimentary alarms on the doors to alert the others if anyone tried to open the door while the alarm was armed. Having done all they could, Helena and Myka retired to their room. At least Claudia and Leena were together if something happened and could assist and protect one another.

 

“I’m so lucky to have you,” she said, startling Helena slightly. She had been lost in thought, sitting on Myka’s bed with a faraway look on her face.

 

“I’m sorry, darling, I was miles away.”

 

“What were you thinking about?” Myka asked curiously.

 

Helena turned to Myka, kissing her neck gently.

 

“I was remembering a time in my life when I was just as mad as Artie is now. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. I would rather not revisit it, but that look in his eyes – it reminds me so much of what I saw in my own. Before I killed those men.”

 

Myka looked at her sympathetically.

 

“I’m sorry, honey. I wish we’d been able to stay with Abigail and work these things out. This thing with Artie must be very hard for you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

Helena kissed her neck again, slipping her arm around Myka’s waist.

 

“Just this. Just be here.”

 

They got dressed for bed and Myka made sure that she was wearing pyjamas that would be easy to move in if anything untoward happened overnight. She put her service weapon on the nightstand, loaded and with the safety off, and the tesla under her pillow. Helena stared at the gun, clearly unhappy at its presence, but she sighed and slid under the covers, clinging to Myka’s body.

 

“Do you think he’s going to do anything tonight, Myka?”

 

“I don’t know, honey. We need to find out what that damn dagger does. I need to get into the Archives tomorrow to see if there’s any more information about Borgia that we haven’t checked yet.”

 

They took a while to get to sleep, both of them starting at every little noise. It was a long night, but an uneventful one.

 

The following morning Claudia and Leena retrieved the Corsican vest and Leena wore it under her clothing, after being fussed over by the younger agent. Leena looked at Claudia fondly.

 

“I’ll be okay, Claudia, don’t worry. We’ll find out what’s wrong with Artie and we’ll fix this.”  


Claudia looked unconvinced, but nodded.

 

They all went to the Warehouse together, Artie in the front seat next to Myka. Claudia had him covered the whole time with a Tesla, and Myka’s service weapon was in her pocket, easily accessible if something went horribly wrong. Again, their precautions were unnecessary as he simple seemed tired and confused.

 

When they reached the Warehouse, Artie wandered off to the room he used there to change and grab some information he had about the Brotherhood of the Black Diamond. They all went along with his idea that Brother Adrian was the one releasing artefacts into the world and threatening Artie. Until Mrs Frederic told them otherwise, they had no other ideas about how to handle him.

 

Myka went to the Archives to search for information on Francesco Borgia, and Claudia stayed in the office to watch the surveillance feed they had set up for Artie. Leena and Helena went into the Warehouse shelves, the former wanting to re-site more artefacts that were playing up, and the latter to act as a bodyguard.

 

Myka found a few references to exorcism and Francesco Borgia, and after cross-referencing a few of them, she found another document that clearly stated that Borgia had used an artefact – a dagger - to separate a person from an evil that they themselves had created. An evil of their own making? Her heart leaped at the realisation. They needed to use the dagger on Artie. Much as she didn’t like the idea, she knew that it had to be done before someone got hurt. It was her turn to carry the dagger that day, and she had it with her in a satchel that also contained a tesla grenade and a few other items that Claudia had prepared for her in case things went south with Artie. Myka took off into the Warehouse, almost at a run, to find Helena and Leena and tell them about the dagger.

 

The unmistakeable sound of a gunshot, followed quickly by another, turned her almost-run into an actual run. She followed the direction of the sound and, when she rounded the corner of the section that held some of the tamer artefacts from World War II, came upon a scene of utter devastation. Leena was crouching on the floor beside Helena, who was bleeding from a wound in her neck. Artie was standing over them both with a gun, swaying unsteadily, a gunshot wound on his right shoulder. He was threatening Leena with the gun, ranting about Brother Adrian. Myka, whose Tesla was in her hand already, where it had been since she’d heard the gunshot, shot him in a fury. She skidded to her knees beside Helena, taking in the spurting of arterial blood with a feeling of intense despair. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

 

Helena was smiling at her, her eyes full of love.

 

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered, blood coating her teeth as she smiled. “Thank you.” Her eyes were bright, almost amber in the harsh light. She looked…content.

 

“I love you, Helena,” Myka choked out, holding on to Helena’s neck, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Then she watched helplessly as the life left Helena’s eyes.

 

She was gone. The blood pooled, the spurting stopped. It was over in seconds. Myka didn’t speak. There was a voice in the distance, and she listened for a moment without comprehension, but then it faded away. 

 

_“Myka…God, Myka I’m so sorry. Artie – he walked round the corner, and he didn’t say anything, he just pulled a gun out of his pocket and he shot me and then he was aiming at my head, Myka – he would have died, or I would have, I don’t know. She stepped in front of me to stop him, to talk to him, but he just shot her. He shot her like she was nothing. We didn’t have time to do anything. She didn’t have time to get her tesla out. I’m so sorry, Myka…”_

 

Leena carried on talking, explaining, crying. Myka just stared.

 

She felt nothing, nothing from that moment on. She was as numb as the stone floor of the Warehouse that was even now absorbing Helena’s blood. There was nothing left of Myka, now.

 

She didn’t pay any attention to Claudia’s arrival, to her screams. She didn’t notice when Claudia lifted her satchel off her shoulder and took out the hastily torn out pages from her research. She felt nothing as Claudia scanned the pages and took out the dagger, stabbing Artie with tears running down her face. Myka saw none of it. She didn’t hear Artie’s hoarse scream as he realised what he’d done. She didn’t feel Leena’s hands delicately remove her own from where they still clutched at Helena’s neck, still trying to stop the flow of blood that had long since ceased. She saw nothing, because Myka Bering was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I should probably put a note here and say I’m sorry. I had plans for Leena, and Helena - in my mind at least - would have sacrificed herself in a heartbeat to save Leena or any of Myka’s friends. I also wanted it to be as senseless as it was in the show. But rest assured, the tale is not yet done.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete makes a decision to fix his family, which has fallen apart in the wake of Helena's murder by Artie.

_Four months later_

 

Pete Lattimer was a simple guy. Feed him, keep him entertained, surround him with the people he loved, and he was happy as a pig in a wallow. Since he’d started working at the Warehouse and had experienced the endless wonder that Mrs Frederic had promised, he’d been pretty damn happy. His colleagues _became_ the people he loved after only a short time. It was understandable; their job was intense, the stakes were high. You worked out pretty quickly in those kinds of circumstances who you wanted to spend your down time with. His colleagues were those people to him, and he was happy. He would have liked to meet a special lady and settle down to have a family, but he could be patient. He’d tried with Kelly, but then she got her TiMER, and it was still counting down, so they’d called it a day. He got his a few days after, to avoid getting his heart broken again. He saw what Myka had found with Helena, the incredible sense of peace those guys were surrounded with every time they were together, and he was willing to wait to find his one. He still had 412 days to go. He could wait that long.

 

But Helena was gone. She had died in an attempt to save the rest of them, an attempt to stop Artie from making the mistakes she herself had made in the past, in her madness. Leena had explained the events of that day to them afterwards. Artie had shot Leena first, and because she was wearing the Corsican vest, it rebounded on him. And then he aimed at Leena’s head, and Helena had made a choice. They didn’t know enough about the Corsican vest to know if a headshot would kill the wearer or the shooter. Either was unacceptable to Helena, clearly. She tried to reason with Artie, stepping in front of Leena, and he shot her. Shooting Helena had delayed him for long enough that Myka had a chance to run across from where she was and tesla Artie. Pete, when Leena told him what had happened, couldn’t work out why Helena hadn’t just taken out her tesla and shot Artie, but sometimes these things happened too damn fast, as he well knew. Defending Leena and saving Artie from himself would have been the first thing on her mind. And afterwards, when Steve sat down with all of them in the devastated silence that permeated the walls of the B&B in the aftermath of HG’s death and Myka’s hospitalisation, and explained what HG had planned to do after she’d been released from the Bronze sector – well, Pete understood why she had stepped in between Artie and Leena. HG had come all the way from potential destroyer of worlds to…well, a hero. It had pretty much taken Pete’s breath away. HG was scary smart, and if she’d wanted to, she could have pulled off her plan easily. There was, that first day when Helena had knocked Myka out, a hint of a vibe. A scary vibe. He figured that her crazy scheme to end the world was why. He felt an intense sense of pride when he thought about his partner, now. Her love had turned HG Wells away from the dark side. Myka was a beautiful soul, he’d always known that, but what she’d done for HG was amazing.

 

Every time he thought of Myka, her blank face, her empty eyes, he started to cry. The first time he’d seen her after Helena died, he’d sobbed his heart out. He got back to the Warehouse two days after Artie killed Helena. He and Steve had been on a retrieval and the artefact was too damn dangerous to leave. By the time he got home, Myka was already in hospital. Leena said she hadn’t said a word, not one, since Helena had died. Claudia was inconsolable too. Artie was a broken man. Pete’s family was falling apart around him. The only one of them who had any semblance of normality about them was Leena; she still had her natural serenity and steady smile. But he’d even caught her sobbing in the kitchen one morning when he went down early because he couldn’t sleep. He held the tiny woman in his arms and she choked on the words she hadn’t been able to say.

 

“She died saving me.”

 

He told her that HG would be happy to die for any of them. He knew the woman well enough to know that was just who she was. Since Myka, anyway. Before that she was more of a moustache twirling villain, he figured. Leena nodded, and his vibeage returned to normal a while later. Leena was special; she always returned to her default setting of serene, even after a trauma like this.

 

The one bright spot in their lives had been Abigail Cho. A few weeks after Helena’s death, she arrived at the Warehouse with the Astrolabe. Mrs Frederic had taken her off to be debriefed by the Regents, and the woman had agreed to stay at the B&B for the foreseeable future to try and help the agents, Artie in particular, with their grief. When Pete took her to the B&B, they were greeted by Leena and suddenly their TiMERs had gone off. Leena and Abigail were soulmates. It was a beautiful thing to witness. They had looked at one another, wide-eyed, and Leena had suddenly stepped forward and wrapped Abigail in her arms. The serenity that Leena usually gave off doubled, and Pete’s eyes filled. He was a sap for that sort of thing, he knew. They had deferred their furlough until things settled and they weren’t needed as much, but he was pretty sure from Leena’s sly smile and Abigail’s wide eyes that they had already undertaken a lot of the ‘traditional’ furlough activities.

 

Thinking of their first meeting made him think about Myka and HG again, how they’d met in London. HG had kicked the crap out of Myka and ran like Usain Bolt. The memory made him smile. And then he cried again.

 

After a few weeks in hospital, almost catatonic, Myka had returned to the B&B. She was talking, she was moving. She wanted to go back to the Warehouse, but the Regents weren’t convinced that she was stable enough to return to active duty. Pete was _really_ sure she wasn’t ready. She spoke, but only when she had to. Leena said that she had ‘wisps’ of an aura, every now and then, but her face – her eyes – she was empty. All she did was sit either in her room or outside at the table on the patio, always looking in the direction of the orchard where they had, after some discussion, decided to bury Helena. Myka hadn’t been there for the small ceremony; she’d been too far gone then. But Pete wasn’t really sure she was any better now. The only expression he ever saw on her face was anger, which only ever happened when she saw Artie. When he was in a room, she left.

 

Pete’s mom was staying around for a while, keeping the Warehouse running in Artie’s absence. Artie wasn’t able to work, he couldn’t think, couldn’t talk most days. Pete didn’t know how they were going to carry on. It wasn’t just losing HG. It was because Artie had killed her. And it was Myka. She was the heart of the team, they all knew that. She kept them together, kept them focused, and without her to lead the way, things were falling apart. Pete was trying to step up, trying to lead, but he could only do that in his way, not Myka’s way. He was a good leader, he knew, but he couldn’t bring them all together the way she could. Things weren’t the same without Myka there.

 

He caught himself thinking that last thing a lot – that Myka wasn’t there. Because while she was, still, technically, there was really nothing left of her in there. He’d looked in her eyes and there was nothing there. He went by every day after they finished inventory and held her hand and talked to her, and sometimes she smiled, chatted with him a little. But it looked mechanical, that smile, and to his senses, his vibes, he might as well have been holding a mannequin’s hand.

 

The ping that took him and Steve to Jerusalem was a welcome distraction. He didn’t feel so bad leaving when Leena and Abigail were there – and his mom. They were keeping things ticking over, making sure Claudia, Myka and Artie ate and that the Warehouse didn’t explode. He and Steve got the artefact after a couple of weeks. It was a strange one because there were reports of people rising from the dead, just walking out of morgues, but then their loved ones were turning up dead. One alive, one dead. They followed the pattern around the city and eventually snagged a simple pebble. It was the Lazarus stone. As the name suggested, it would bring someone back from the dead – but the downside was that someone had to be willing to give their life in exchange. Pete didn’t really get that, because in the Bible story Jesus didn’t ask for a volunteer to replace Lazarus; he just healed him. But artefacts didn’t have to make sense. A guy could go batshit crazy thinking about all that. In any case, they neutralised it but it didn’t change what had happened, thankfully. Because those people had really wanted to give their lives up for their loved ones, and he also didn’t want to contemplate the possibility of people waking up in their graves. It was too icky.

 

When they got close to the Warehouse, he got a bad vibe. About Myka. He explained to Steve as he put the pedal to the metal, pulling up in front of the Warehouse in a cloud of dust. When they got inside, there was no-one in the office. Pete followed his vibe, his instincts, and told Steve to stay in the office. He strapped himself into the zip line (ignoring the pain in his testicles), landing deep in the Warehouse. He followed his vibes at a run, and then he found her. Myka was there, on the floor of the aisle where HG had died. She was unconscious and bleeding heavily from her wrist. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it round her wrist as tightly as he could manage, and then called Steve on his Farnsworth.

 

“Steve, she’s bleeding. I need the doc. Is she here?”

 

His voice came out as a sob, and Steve’s face visibly paled, even in black and white. Pete closed the Farnsworth and knelt on the floor next to Myka’s prone form, putting pressure on her wrist to try and slow the bleeding. Dr Calder arrived at a run a few minutes later, taking Myka from Pete. Dr Calder did her thing, stopping the bleeding entirely with something from her bag, while Pete looked on with his heart in his mouth.  

 

When they got her to hospital, things became clear. Myka had tried to remove the TiMER. It was sort of implanted in, and it wasn’t connected to your veins or anything, but Myka had tried to dig it out with a pen, and had severed a vein or an artery or whatever. He didn’t know why she was in the Warehouse at all, but Mrs Frederic eventually explained by Farnsworth that Myka had wanted to do something, to keep herself busy and away from Artie, so she was doing inventory. She must have stumbled on the World War II aisle and freaked out. She had very nearly bled to death. She was hooked up to all sorts of things now, in hospital, blood and fluids and machines. And she was restrained. Pete stood there, looking at the restraints holding her thin arms down, and tried to hold back the tears. She hadn’t actually managed to remove the TiMER, so to avoid further damage, the doctors had just left it where it was. She wasn’t in any danger, not any more. But it was at that moment, looking at her too-thin wrists dwarfed by the leather restraints, that Pete made his decision. The Warehouse would continue without him, but without Myka, everything was falling apart. And without HG, Myka was gone. So he had to get HG back. He loved Myka like a sister, and he’d sometimes wondered if it could’ve been more, but all that aside, he knew that he would die for her. She needed HG more than she needed him, and that was that. No more thinking needed. He left Myka in the hospital room, still unconscious, and told Steve what had happened. Then he said he was going to make sure the Lazarus stone got to the Warehouse, and he was, so he didn’t set off Steve’s lie detector, thankfully. He left Steve at the hospital and drove to the small orchard nearby where they’d buried HG. He didn’t know what state her body would be in after this time, and he didn’t really want to think about it, so he just got on with it, digging up the spot where Leena laid flowers every day. It took a while and he was majorly sweaty and gross by the time he hit the wood of the coffin. It hadn’t taken much thought before he decided he should dig her up before using the stone; he figured that making HG Wells dig her way out of her own grave would be a good way to send her over the edge into moustache-twirling villain territory again. He didn’t know how the stone worked, so he tried to cover all of his bases.

 

He took a few minutes to write a short note to Myka, explaining why he’d done this, and another to his mom, explaining the same, and apologising. He thought she would understand. She was a practical woman, and she would understand why he did this rather than leave things as broken as they were.

 

The third note was to HG. They weren’t entirely sure how the life-for-a-life thing worked, and he might already be dead by the time she came back to life. He didn’t want her to freak out too bad if she found his body.

 

He steeled himself for the grossness and opened the coffin lid. She didn’t actually look that bad for a dead chick. He still didn’t _want_ to touch her, but he also really didn’t want her waking up in the coffin. So he climbed into the grave and lifted her out. She was really light (probably for very disgusting reasons that he didn’t want to think about too closely) and he was able to lift her weight above his head and set her on the side of the grave pretty easily. He was glad that they hadn’t done the traditional 6 feet for the grave, because that would have been way harder. He pulled himself out of the hole, and put the note right next to her body along with a set of gloves and a neutraliser bag for the stone. He gathered his thoughts, sitting there cross-legged, and said a quick prayer. Couldn’t hurt, right? The wind must have changed right then, because all he could smell was apples from the orchard. He hoped he was doing the right thing. He picked up the stone.

 

*

 

Leena’s head snapped up. She had been reading quietly in the library, Abigail leaning against her, when she got a strong feeling that someone needed her nearby. The orchard. She grabbed Abigail’s arm and pulled her along, running to the door, getting in the car and driving like a maniac. Something was majorly out of kilter and she couldn’t _not_ go.

 

When she got there, she gaped. HG Wells – Helena – was sitting beside her grave, in the dress they’d buried her in, looking thoroughly confused and lost. Pete was lying next to her. He had a stone in one hand. The Lazarus stone, Leena assumed, since that’s what he’d just returned from picking up. No, he hadn’t – had he? She shared an urgent look with Abigail and they both rushed to the confused Victorian’s side.

 

“Leena? Abigail? Where on earth am I? And why do I smell so bad?”

 

Helena did, indeed, smell horrific. The fluids from her body decomposing had seeped into her clothes. They would have to be burned. Leena left Abigail with a confused HG and turned her attention to Pete. He looked incredibly serene, stretched out on the grass next to Helena with a neutraliser bag and gloves and a note next to him. Leena almost couldn’t bear to look. But she had to. She moved closer to him, slowly, and hesitantly put her fingers on his throat where the pulse should be.

 

His eyes popped open.

 

“Whoa, Leena! What are you doing here?”

 

“Pete!” she shrieked. “What the hell?” She punched him as hard as she could on the arm nearest to her.

 

He looked at her in confusion and a little bit of fear. She had punched him _really_ hard, to be fair.

 

Abigail was talking to Helena quietly, presumably explaining what had happened since she had saved Leena’s life.

 

“Pete, how the hell did this happen? Did you use the Lazarus stone? How are you still alive?”

 

He shrugged, a little wide-eyed.

 

“After what happened to Myka, I decided that she needed HG more than she needed me, and the whole team was falling apart without Mykes. So I came here. I dug up HG, I wrote my notes, and I lay down and made my peace. But then I smelled apples, and here I am, still alive. And HG is too! Hey, HG!” He shouted that last, and bounded over to the resurrected woman, enveloping her in a hug.

 

“Hello, Pete,” Helena said, confused. Leena stared at both of them. It was going to take a long time to get all this straight. And what the hell had happened to Myka? She sighed and herded her family towards the car.

 

*

 

It was looking at her. Watching her. Every day. She was empty – she was clinging to the feeling of emptiness, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate. But it was just there, mocking her. The only time she felt anything was when she saw Artie or she looked at the damn TiMER, the smug metal glinting at her. And this was the day when her fragile mind cracked. She stood dumbly in the Warehouse, having somehow wandered into the aisle where she had lost everything that mattered to her, and she cracked. She jammed a pen into her flesh, where the TiMER was embedded, and pulled with all of her strength. She watched dumbly as the blood pumped out, and it reminded her so much of Helena’s last moments that her mind blanked again.

 

When she came to, the steady beeping of a heart monitor made her wince. It was so loud. Surely it didn’t need to be that loud? Why did she need a heart monitor anyway? She reluctantly opened her eyes and looked around. She was surrounded by equipment, lines in her arms and she was…she lifted her head a little and looked down at her body. She was restrained. They must have thought she was trying to hurt herself, rather than just trying to get the TiMER out of her, away from her.

 

Her eyes went to the device involuntarily. Her wrist was swathed in gauze and bandages, but the display was still visible.  It was still there, still mocking her with its ticking display. That thought seemed strange to her, for some reason. But her mind wasn’t working. She hadn’t had any real thoughts for such a long time. She’d been _gone_ for such a long time. She looked at the TiMER dully, watching the time tick down.

 

It still took another twenty minutes or so for that to register with her shattered consciousness. The TiMER was ticking. The time was ticking down. She had already met, and lost, her soulmate. So why would the TiMER be counting down? Some vestige of Myka Bering began to resurface.

 

The heart monitor flatlined a minute and a half later, and by the time the doctors got there, it was too late.

 

*

 

 

Helena was thoroughly, utterly confused. She remembered what had happened with the Astrolabe. She remembered their careful planning with Leena and Claudia, and their surveillance of Artie. She remembered parting with Myka so that the woman she loved - the woman about whom she was still so incredibly conflicted - could check the Archives for information about the Borgia dagger. She also remembered that Artie had confronted her while she and Leena were clearing things up in the World War II aisle. And then she had woken on the ground, in the cold, with an unconscious Peter Lattimer next to her. Leena and Abigail had spoken to her only briefly, to explain that she, Helena, had died, which explained the open grave and the appalling stench. But no-one would tell her where Myka was. They had shoved her into the bathroom at the B&B, which was fair, she supposed, since the smell was causing all of them to gag. Leena had promised to burn the dress she’d been wearing, which was a shame as it had been one of her favourites. Myka had bought it for her. But still, there was no Myka. Helena was very much afraid that Myka, too, had died, and that everyone was too frightened to tell her.

 

She dressed in some of Myka’s clothing that Leena left outside the bathroom door for her. Why it wasn’t her own clothing, she didn’t care to ask. She made her way cautiously downstairs to the kitchen, where Leena and Abigail were standing close to one another and talking.

 

“Helena.” Abigail enveloped her in a warm hug. She was very glad to see the psychologist. Abigail had helped her make a realisation that had ultimately made her a better person. But she wanted to see Myka. That was the important thing, here.

 

She turned to Leena and asked her where Myka was. Leena took her hand, turning it over nervously and beginning to say something. Suddenly, however, she stopped and stared at Helena’s wrist. The TiMER device had never been removed. And it was counting down. Which meant…

 

Helena couldn’t work out what it meant, actually. Neither could Leena, apparently. Helena squeezed Leena’s hand impatiently, trying to get the staring woman to look at her, to tell her where Myka was. As she did so, however, there was a loud crash from behind her. She spun on her heel, ready to defend them from whatever was attacking.

 

Myka Bering, an extremely thin and sallow-skinned Myka Bering, stood before her in a hospital gown. The crash they had just heard was her colliding with a side table and knocking over what had been a very expensive looking vase. Helena stared. What on earth was going on? What had happened to Myka?

 

*

 

Myka stole the first car she found in the hospital car park that was unlocked. She might be a federal agent but she still knew how to hot-wire a car. She drove like the wild hunt was on her heels, tyres squealing as she took corners at double the speed she should. For a woman who had been almost catatonic for the best part of half a year, she hadn’t lost any of her reflexes. She abandoned the car just outside the B&B, almost taking out one of the support beams to the porch in her headlong flight to get inside.

 

She ran inside, her bare butt exposed to the world through the split in the hospital gown. She reached the kitchen and skidded to a halt as she took in the woman who was standing there, in Myka’s clothes, talking to Leena. She had her back to Myka.

 

Myka staggered a little and crashed into a side table and the woman spun, taking an instinctively defensive stance as a vase splintered into a million pieces on the floor. Myka stood, staring, and the TiMER began to beep.

 

“Helena.”

 

That was all she managed to get out before her feet were moving, running heedlessly over the broken porcelain and throwing herself into the arms of the woman who she had loved and lost over and over. She stopped breathing as Helena’s arms tightened around her, holding her together, bringing her back to herself. She buried her face in her neck, taking in the fresh scent of apples and vanilla. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t cry. Didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I estimate two more parts to this - one more chapter and an epilogue. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the last one :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Helena finds out what happened in her absence, and Mrs Frederic pays a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an epilogue to come, but this is the last real chapter. I just wanted to say thank you all for reading, I've had a great time writing this fic and the feedback I've received has been really encouraging.

* * *

Myka’s sudden appearance threw Helena for a loop. That was a saying she had learned since being de-bronzed. In fact it might have been one that Myka herself had taught her. Myka looked ill, terrible, and so, so lost. Helena couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment, until the TiMER device began to beep, once again, as it had so long ago in the museum in London that had once been her home. That broke the impasse between them, and after a breathy utterance of Helena’s name, Myka threw herself at Helena, reminding her strongly of the night during their furlough when they had been at odds and Myka had cried in Helena’s arms. Helena instinctively held Myka tightly. She didn’t know what had passed in her absence, or indeed how long that absence had been, but judging from Myka’s reaction, it had not been good. Helena clung to Myka, trying to comfort her, trying to make it better, whatever had happened. After a few moments, Abigail interrupted them.

 

“Myka, you’re bleeding!”

 

And she was. She had trodden on the remains of the vase she had smashed, and her feet were bleeding profusely on the tiled floor of the kitchen. Not only that, but her still very toned derrière was visible for anyone to see. Helena was glad that it was only the ladies who were there at the time – Pete’s eyes would have probably fallen out of the sockets at the sight. Helena took off her own – or rather, Myka’s - loose cardigan and tied it around Myka’s bare waist wordlessly. She then leaned down and, in a move that once again reminded her of their previous time together, lifted Myka off her feet, one arm under her knees and one around her back. She carried Myka to the small library, Abigail and Leena following after with a basin of warm water and a variety of bandages and other healing paraphernalia.

 

They had still not spoken a word to one another, other than Myka saying her name. They were saying everything they needed to, however, in the looks and touches they shared as they breathed in the scent of one another. 

 

Helena deposited Myka on the couch in the library, sitting next to her with their bodies pressed together. She sensed that Myka did not wish to be parted from her physically at this juncture, and she had no problem in acquiescing to that wish.

 

Leena carefully cleaned the small cuts on Myka’s feet, which were nonetheless bleeding profusely, and dressed them with some sort of ointment from a tube. She finished her ministrations by bandaging both feet carefully. In the meantime, Abigail had disappeared, and the reason for this became clear almost immediately as both Claudia and Artie arrived in the small library in a state of shock.

 

She and Myka were, for some time, enveloped in the enthusiastic embraces of the ecstatic Claudia and the weeping Arthur Nielsen. Helena could only assume that, under the influence of this ‘evil of his own making’, Artie had killed her. Since she couldn’t remember anything after he confronted her and Leena in the World War II aisle, it was the only thing that made sense. She knew that the grief of that would have weighed him down, and that seeing her was both a great shock and a moment of catharsis so profound that he was coming undone. She allowed him to hug her, therefore, and she comforted him, whispered words of forgiveness in his ear as he cried. She did not, however, let go of Myka. Myka was being hugged half to death by a half-weeping, half-ecstatic Claudia, who was saying something about how glad she was that Myka was really back, that she had missed her terribly. The whole situation was incredibly confusing, but Helena decided to be patient. Clearly something had happened to Myka while she had been…indisposed.

 

When both Claudia and Artie had calmed themselves, Leena and Abigail, who were awfully chummy, for some reason, brought tea and cakes in to the library. Pete, who had been hiding upstairs apparently, overwhelmed, came down and gave Myka a huge hug. Both partners had tears running down their faces. Helena had, at that point, absorbed as much information as she could, and she broke through the silent tears to ask, loudly, what on earth had happened.

 

Myka burrowed into her side a little more. She was clearly not going to explain, so Helena turned her slightly irate gaze upon Pete. He shrank back a little from the annoyance on her face, holding two hands up in supplication.

 

“Whoa there HG, don’t go all world-destroying on us, man!”

 

For God’s sake, who had told him that? She swallowed her annoyance on that matter, however, and raised an eyebrow at Pete. It was enough to make him start talking immediately. He explained that Artie had killed her, shot her with a pistol. She knew that there was a good reason to hate the bloody things. She’d been killed or almost killed twice now with a handgun. Claudia had performed a sort of exorcism on Artie with the Borgia dagger. And Myka - she had gone, retreated into her own mind, at the moment of Helena’s death. Pete’s eyes darted from Helena’s face to Myka’s nervously as he tried to explain. Helena drew Myka closer, putting both arms around her as the too-thin agent hid her face in Helena’s hair. Pete continued, explaining that Myka had been hospitalised for a time as she was unable to look after herself in the condition she was in. She had come back to the B&B, but she hadn’t been herself. Pete was clearly choosing his words very carefully, watching Myka for any sign of a reaction. He continued explaining and said that this morning, in the Warehouse, Myka had tried to remove the TiMER. Pete explained that he didn’t think it was a suicide attempt, but nonetheless it pulled at Helena’s heart that the woman she loved had been so far gone as to almost kill herself. Myka was crying, now. Helena could feel the tears soaking into her shirt. Pete had decided at that point to use the artefact they had just retrieved to bring Helena back from the dead. He said it all quite matter-of-factly, explaining that he had felt that the team needed Myka to hold them all together, and that Myka needed Helena. The choice was clear, he said. He decided to give his life for hers, but for some reason the artefact had allowed him to live, too. Helena nodded, thanking him silently as Myka began to sob. They shared a long look, she and Peter, and he led the rest of the team out of the library, stopping to pick up the plate of cake as he did so. The man would never change. But Helena, at that moment, couldn’t have loved him more. He was an irritating, childish man, but he saw to the heart of matters, and he knew that Myka was disappearing and would not come back unless Helena herself did. He had been prepared to sacrifice himself for the sake of returning Myka to herself, and Helena would never forget that. Never.

 

She turned her mind to the sobbing woman in her arms. Myka was much more fragile than she appeared. Having given her whole heart to Helena after they had been matched, she was unable to function without her. Helena thought that, in Myka’s position, she might very well have reacted the same. Or, more likely, she would have sought revenge on Artie. She repressed a shudder at the thought of Myka trapped in her own mind in much the same way as Helena had been in the Bronze sector. She held Myka against her body, waiting until the sobbing stilled before she drew back, brushing away the curls that were plastered across Myka’s face, stuck to her skin with the tears she had shed.

 

“I love you.”

 

That was all she said. She didn’t need to say anything else. She kissed Myka slowly, softly, relishing the warmth of the lips against her own. They kissed slowly, languorously. They were alive, and they were together.

 

Helena wanted to make love to Myka right there, to take her on the floor of the library, to ravish her and prove her love upon her body again and again. Helena’s body was being quite clear about its own needs. However, Myka needed tenderness and care at that moment, and Helena swallowed her frustration with difficulty, drawing back and looking at Myka carefully.

 

“I am so sorry I left you, my love. I would never have done so voluntarily.”

 

Helena kissed Myka once again, softly, to underline that point.

 

Myka tried to speak, and only air came out. She cleared her throat and spoke from a throat that sounded rusty with disuse.

 

“I lost you, Helena. I lost you.” Her eyes were frightened and empty. Helena didn’t want to see that look in Myka’s eyes, not ever again.

 

“I know, love. I know. I am so sorry. I am sorry you had to go through that. I promise you that I will never leave you if it is within my power to do so. I will be at your side for as long as you will have me.” She kissed Myka’s hand.

 

Myka needed a shower, and clothes. It was a shame to undo Leena’s hard work with the dressings she had placed on Myka’s feet, but Myka needed to at least be dressed in something that didn’t display her (rather delicious) behind to the world. Clothes maketh the man, and all that. Helena smiled at Myka, who smiled back. Her smile was a wonder. Helena felt that she could die happy, having Myka Bering’s smile turned on her. But she knew that she must change her ways, now. She would fight for her life in future, she would not die again, not unless she had no other choice. She had to live for Myka now. Or rather, she had Myka to live for now. Her own life might not be terribly precious to Helena, but it was clearly precious to Myka and Helena had no intention of causing such incredible pain ever again.

 

She stood up slowly, ignoring Myka’s soft noise of protest at the loss of contact for the moment, and crossed to the door. She opened it and called for Peter. He came swiftly, having apparently been listening out for them. Helena asked him to carry Myka to the bathroom. Myka had lost a lot of weight in the previous four months, but she was still a little heavier than Helena. Their short trip to the library had been manageable, but she knew she couldn’t carry Myka upstairs. She followed along behind a protesting Myka, who was enfolded in Peter’s rather impressive arms. Helena smiled as Myka seemed to regain some of her fire. Peter deposited Myka on the small chair in the bathroom and departed quietly, and Helena busied herself with filling the bath. She used plenty of the wonderful fragrant solutions that Claudia and Myka both secretly liked to use in the bathroom, and soon the bath was covered with bubbles and the room was filled with the wonderful aromas of strawberries and cream. Helena admonished Myka to stay where she was, and went across to her room to find some comfortable clothing for Myka to wear once she was clean. She also went to the kitchen and appropriated some more ointment and dressings for Myka’s feet, and popped in to the living area and asked Pete if he would come up and carry Myka downstairs for dinner once it was ready.

 

Her preparations made, she returned to the bathroom and could not help but kiss Myka once again when she saw the woman’s face. She was forlorn, small, tired. Helena kissed her gently and then began to remove the dressings from her feet, and the hospital gown from her body. She looked at Myka’s body, so wasted from her long stay in hospital and a lack of nourishment. She would have to spend the next few months feeding Myka properly, ensuring that she regained weight and strengthened herself again.  Her ribs were painfully prominent.

 

She lifted a once-again protesting Myka carefully into the bath. Myka hissed as the warm water touched her sore feet, but sighed as the warmth enveloped her body. Helena shucked her own clothes quickly and slid in behind Myka, causing some of the water to tip out. But she didn’t care. She was alive, Myka was alive, and they were together.

 

She took great care in washing Myka, who once again protested at her treatment, but Helena would have none of it. She helped the too-thin woman out of the bath, and soon Myka was clean and dry and wearing actual clothing. Helena re-dressed her feet carefully and carried her to the bedroom, which was mercifully across the hall. They crawled into bed and held on to one another tightly. Helena didn’t know how they would be able to get through life if they didn’t ever let go of one another again, but the utter devastation that her absence had wreaked upon Myka convinced her that she wanted – no, needed - to stay here, pressed to Myka Bering like a second skin, until the very end of time.

 

*

 

Myka lay in her bed in the B&B, enveloped in the arms of her soulmate, wondering if this was all a dream. There had been many of those, and she had begun to mistrust her own mind. But Helena was warm and beautiful and caring and alive. She was alive. That didn’t change the fact that she had, once again, died. Once again she had sacrificed her life. And this time Myka had had to try to live on without her. She had failed, obviously. Helena was asleep, her eyelashes dark against her beautiful pale skin. It was hard for Myka to look at her face without remembering the rhythmic spurt of blood from that pale neck, the redness that coated her teeth, the choked sound of her voice as she died. She wondered if she would ever forget it, and cursed her eidetic memory. She banished the image from the forefront of the mind, concentrating instead on the curve of Helena’s jaw, the smell of her hair – the heartbeat that proved she was alive. Myka let herself relax. If this was a dream, she might as well savour the time with the woman she loved and had lost far too many times.  

 

Leena woke them for dinner, knocking gently at the door and then entering when there was no answer. She touched Myka’s shoulder hesitantly, and then smiled widely as Myka took in Helena beside her. They smiled at one another for a moment, and then Leena leaned down to hug Myka tightly.

 

“I’m so glad you’re back with us, Myka. Dinner’s ready.”

 

She left with a backward glance and a delighted smile. Myka turned to look at Helena, who was sleeping next to her, looking very much like she had in those first weeks while they were on furlough. She was beautiful, luminous – and alive. Myka pressed her face into Helena’s neck, breathing in as she tried to let it sink in that Helena was back, Helena was alive.

 

“Myka?” she said sleepily, stirring.

 

“Hey,” Myka said, trying for casual, but failing miserably. Helena’s eyes opened immediately and she looked at Myka, pulling back slightly so she could look her in the eye.

 

“Are you quite all right, love?” Helena asked, searching Myka’s eyes with her own.

 

Myka closed her eyes. It was almost too painful to look, to see Helena in front of her.

 

“Myka, what is it, love? I’m here. I’m real. We’re together.” Helena pulled Myka against her, sliding one arm underneath and around her waist to meet the other. She hugged her tightly. Myka stifled a sob against Helena’s chest.

 

“We’re together, Myka. I’m here, Peter brought me back. It’s all right, my love.” Myka was trembling against Helena, who responded by holding her a little more tightly, rubbing her back slowly. Myka slowly relaxed her body, forcing herself to understand that Helena was really there.

 

She took a few more breaths, pulled herself together, and then told Helena that dinner was ready. They pulled on jeans – Myka’s jeans, because Helena’s clothes had been removed shortly after she died. (The day Myka had come back to the B&B from hospital, she had stopped in the doorway of her room when she saw Helena’s clothes next to hers in the closet. Pete had taken one look her face and made sure the clothes were all gone the next day.) They made their way sleepily downstairs. The whole gang was there, including Artie, and although Myka couldn’t meet his eyes, she noticed that Helena gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand before sitting down. Myka felt bad, because she knew that none of this was his fault. He used the astrolabe because he had no choice, and he had no choice in what it did to him – what it made him do. But he killed Helena, and she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him.

 

They had a quiet meal together. Pete and Claudia goofed around, as usual, and Leena was her usual motherly self, fussing around Myka and Helena and making sure that they had enough to eat and drink, but it was all too much, after a while, and Pete carried Myka back to her room after she fell asleep sitting up with her head on Helena’s shoulder, her food practically untouched.  She fell asleep again with Helena’s arms around her, and didn’t wake until mid-morning.

 

She was hungry. It was the first time she had been hungry since Helena’s death. She opened her eyes to find Helena watching her, propped up on her elbow.

 

“Good morning, my love.”

 

“Hey,” she managed, in reply. Her throat had closed, once again, as the fact that Helena was really there sunk in once again. She wondered if that mixture of fear and joy would ever go away. Helena lifted her hand to stroke Myka’s face softly.

 

“I’m so sorry, darling. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I thought we had planned well enough to protect ourselves, that we would all be safe. I’m so sorry I was wrong, that I put you through all this.”

 

Myka shook her head.

 

“You are crazy, do you know that?”

 

Helena raised her eyebrows, managing to look both offended and amused at once.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“I mean, this isn’t your damn fault, Helena. You didn’t make Sykes do what he did, and you did everything you could to keep us all safe when Artie started going crazy. I know you would have stayed with me if you could, honey. It’s not your fault I fell apart without you. I guess it’s just harder to lose your soulmate than it is to lose anyone else.”

 

Helena reached over and pulled Myka closer so she could kiss her. Her lips were soft and warm and gentle. A little too gentle, if Myka was honest, because she wanted Helena so badly right then that it was making her crazy. But her stomach rumbled loudly and they moved apart, laughing.

 

“Perhaps we should search out some breakfast, my love?”

 

Helena called Pete again, who carried Myka downstairs. They were all in pyjamas and dressing gowns. Myka couldn’t even think about dressing – she was far too hungry.

 

When they got to the kitchen, however, Myka was surprised to find Leena and Abigail making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Leena had Abigail pushed up against the refrigerator. It was, Myka had to admit, kind of hot. She cleared her throat loudly, and then started laughing as Leena jumped back and Abigail blushed prettily. Helena and Pete were both grinning at the embarrassed therapist. Leena was unabashed.

 

“So, I take it I’ve missed something?” Myka said, grinning.

 

Leena took Abigail’s hand.

 

“Abigail is my One,” Leena said shyly.

 

“Wow, you guys, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

 

There was hugging all round, made slightly awkward by Myka still being in Pete’s arms. He deposited her on a chair and Helena sat next to her. The other three sat themselves down at the table, and then Leena spoke.

 

“My TiMER was blank, you know. Until the day…the day Artie shot you, Helena. I think that I was supposed to die that day. Because we’ve talked about it, Abigail and I, we worked it out. Her TiMER started counting down the moment that you died. I’m pretty sure that I owe you my life, HG. And my happiness, because I got to meet Abigail.” Leena smiled adoringly at Abigail, who was holding her hand and looking both embarrassed and dazed. There was stunned silence for a moment, and then Myka found, to her surprise, that she was crying.

 

Leena was suddenly upset and apologetic.

 

“I’m so sorry, Myka – I didn’t want to upset you, I just – I thought you should know, both of you, what Helena did for me – for us.” She got up and walked around the table, enveloping Myka in a hug. Myka let herself sink into the comfort of her arms and the calm serenity that Leena projected. She heard Helena and Abigail talking softly behind her, but she couldn’t seem to stop crying, once again.

 

“It’s okay, Myka.” Leena murmured. “You need to let yourself feel this. All those months, you were suppressing everything. It’s not surprising that it’s coming out now. But she’s here, she’s alive, she’s real.”

 

“And she is your One, Agent Bering.”

 

The voice came from behind them all, and Myka jumped, as usual. She disentangled herself from Leena and turned. Helena was staring at Mrs Frederic, her hand clutching at the locket at her throat.

 

“Really? The goblet – it was tainted…after?”

 

“Yes, Agent Wells.” Mrs Frederic stepped forward and took Helena’s hand in hers.

 

“I checked the details of the investigation myself. The goblet was tainted by an agent of Walter Sykes’, a woman who was later found murdered. The tainting, however, happened many weeks after you and Agent Bering were matched. Your worries were unfounded, Helena. You are a match, as Leena assured you.” She beamed at Helena, and then turned to smile at Myka.

 

“The problem has, of course, been solved, and the TiMER now functions as it should. Congratulations to you both.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs Frederic.” Myka tried to convey in those words how grateful she was. Helena didn’t have a reason to run, now. And Myka had still been harbouring a fear that she would do exactly that, because of this insane idea she had about sacrificing herself and her happiness for Myka’s own good.

 

Helena turned to Myka, tears in her eyes. Myka sank to her knees next to Helena’s chair, wincing a little at the pain from her feet, and pulled Helena’s face down for a kiss. She kissed the woman she loved, heedless of Mrs Frederic and Leena and Abigail, just kissed her and told her in that kiss everything that she wanted to say. Helena melted against her, reminding her of their first real kiss when the stupid English asshole had insulted them. They fell into each other, and she could feel Helena’s relief in the way that she clutched at Myka.

 

“I love you, Helena Wells. You better not leave me again,” she whispered fiercely in Helena’s ear as she held Helena to her tightly.

 

“Never.” They stared at one another for a long moment, and then Pete broke the moment by clearing his throat loudly and muttering something about getting a room. Abigail thumped him in the arm. Myka made her way laboriously from her knees back to her chair, trying to avoid putting weight on her injured feet. When she was sitting down, she caught Pete’s eye and smiled. He was wiping his eyes, she noticed, the big softie. He’d probably said that about getting a room just because he thought he was going to cry. He smiled back at her. She was going to have to spend the rest of her life making sure he knew how much it meant to her that he was willing to give his life for her happiness.

 

Mrs Frederic congratulated them again and pulled her usual disappearing act shortly after. They all had breakfast, Helena watching every mouthful Myka ate from out of the corner of her eye, for some reason. Myka decided she would ask about that later – much later, if she had her way, because as soon as breakfast was done she had every intention of going back to their room and spending the rest of the day showing Helena how much she loved her and how much she had missed her.

 

Pete carried Myka back to her bedroom after breakfast, with an anxious Helena shadowing him all the way up the stairs.

 

He left them to their own devices after setting Myka down gently on the bed. Helena bustled around, removing the dressings on Myka’s feet and cleaning and redressing them.

 

“I think you’ll be able to walk on these tomorrow. They’re healing very well.”

 

Myka smiled. Helena was adorable when she was fussing. Hell, she was adorable when she was doing anything. Myka was so damn grateful to even be able to look at her again. The last few months without her had been hell on earth. It was beyond her, really, how Helena could, in such a short time, have become the central part of her life, to the point where Myka fell apart without her.

 

“Come here,” she said, suddenly, startling Helena who was still fussing with the dressings on her feet.

 

Helena sat next to her on the bed, and Myka put her head on Helena’s shoulder, turning her body slightly in to Helena’s. Helena slid her arms around Myka and pulled their bodies close, kissing Myka’s hair, chuckling as it tickled her nose.

 

“Your hair is wild in the morning, love,” she mumbled into Myka’s hair. Myka responded by snuggling further into Helena’s shoulder.

 

“I missed you so much.”

 

“I know, my love. I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what you went through.” Helena drew back to look at Myka, guilt and pain evident on her face.

 

Myka just stared, taking in every detail of Helena’s face.

 

“Do you feel better, now you know that we are soulmates?”

 

Helena let out a sigh.

 

“God, yes. I was so frightened that I would be bad for you, that I would end up hurting you.”

 

“The only thing that hurts me is when you’re not here.” Myka raised her hand, a little hesitantly, to touch Helena’s face, to rub her thumb across Helena’s cheekbone.

 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to leave you.”

 

“I know. It’s okay. I know.”

 

They moved towards each other, slowly, lips almost meeting, breathing one another in, eyes closed. Myka buried her hands in Helena’s hair. Their foreheads were touching. Myka breathed deeply, the scent of Helena convincing Myka that she wasn’t dreaming, that she wasn’t a hallucination. She was really here, really alive.

 

Helena’s hand at the nape of her neck urged their lips together. It was soft at first, and tentative. But soon it turned urgent and deep and searching. Myka moved up to her knees and straddled Helena’s lap where she sat at the edge of the bed, pressing their bodies together.

 

“You’re really here?” she asked, her voice tiny.

 

Helena drew back again, meeting her eyes.

 

“I am here. I am here and I love you.”

 

“Show me,” Myka said, her eyes searching Helena’s.

 

Helena’s lips found Myka’s. They kissed urgently and lost themselves for hours in each other. Helena’s relief at finding out she was Myka’s true soulmate was plain, and Myka’s relief that Helena was there at all drove her to make love to Helena with complete abandon.  The other inhabitants of the B&B fled after the first few minutes – Myka distantly noted the door slamming several times even as she focused on Helena’s body above hers – and didn’t return for the rest of the day, a fact for which Myka was incredibly grateful. She needed this time – _they_ needed this time to be together and to renew their intimacy, and to deal with their overwhelming feelings and need for one another.

 

Some considerable time later, her head was pillowed on Helena’s shoulder, and Helena was stroking her hair absently while looking off into the distance.

 

“What are you thinking about, honey?” Myka asked curiously, suppressing a groan as Helena scratched a particularly sensitive spot on her scalp.

 

“I was just thinking about Walter Sykes.”

 

“You’re thinking about Walter Sykes, while you’re in bed with me?” Myka asked indignantly.

 

“I was thinking that I am so incredibly relieved that Mrs Frederic was able to confirm that I am really your soulmate, because I was so worried, Myka. I was so worried that I was going to hurt you. It made more sense than us being meant for each other.” Myka raised an eyebrow angrily at that.

 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Helena said quickly. “I meant that it made more sense to me that I would be your worst possible match than your best. My history is not something I am proud of. And you are such a wonderful person, Myka.”

 

“Jesus, Helena. You make me sound like some sort of saint. Which I’m really not.” Myka huffed out an irritated breath, rolling her eyes.  

 

“You might not be a saint, but you’re the nearest thing to it, to me at least.”

 

Myka stared at her.

  
“You really mean that, don’t you?”

 

Helena shrugged.

 

“I do, yes. You brought me back to myself, Myka, when I was ready to destroy everything – to destroy you – for the sake of vengeance.”

 

Myka took a deep breath. She knew that Helena was damaged, that she had very nearly been broken during her time in the Bronze sector, but this was ridiculous.

 

“Look, Helena. I am not perfect. I am just a human being. I have done stupid things in my time. I kicked Pete in the nuts so hard once that he had to go to the emergency room, because he asked me if my middle name was ‘Over’. I do stupid things, I have raised my hand in anger. I have raised a _gun_ in anger. I had a relationship with a married man. Yeah, they were separated, but I still shouldn’t have done it. I am human, Helena, not a saint. No relationship can survive that kind of…inequality. You’re not a monster any more than I am a saint. We are products of our environments, and of our circumstances. You went crazy for a while because you had to deal with being Bronzed for over a century. There is no way I would have come through _that_ experience with even a fraction of the poise that you did. You have done some terrible things, Helena, but you have done some amazing things too. It’s time to move on from that. Please.”

 

Helena was looking at her with her mouth hanging open.

 

“I’m sorry. I…I think I have…to get used to the idea that we are a match, a real match. Sykes had convinced me – I had convinced myself, in truth – that I was bad for you; that you deserved better. I’m not used to the idea that I deserve you.”

 

Myka looked at her for a moment incredulously, and then took Helena’s hands in hers, squeezing to underline her sincerity.

 

“You are crazy, Helena Wells. I love you so much that I nearly lost my mind without you. You died to save someone I love. And you _still_ question your worth. I guess I’m just going to have to spend the rest of our life together - which had better be a long life, by the way, because I’m getting pretty sick of losing you – showing you how much you mean to me and how grateful I am that you’re here.”

 

“Myka, I am going to have to train you out of those long sentences, because I’m not sure even I followed that last one.”

 

Myka kissed her.

 

“Yeah you did.”

 

“Yes, I did. But still, that was rather a long sentence, and I’m not sure I can keep up with your thoughts some days.”

 

“I guess you’ll just have to stick around so you can get used to it, won’t you?”

 

Myka kissed her again.

 

“So, the O _doesn’t_ stand for ‘Over’?”

 

Myka glared at her.

 

“Do you want a strangulated testicle too?”

 

“Heavens, no. I can’t imagine what I’d do with one of those.” Helena grinned unrepentantly.

 

Myka glared even harder at Helena’s insouciant expression, but her glare softened and faded away shortly afterwards because Helena started kissing her neck, just under her ear, and began to work her way down along Myka’s jawline. Soon they weren’t talking again, except in gasps and cries.

 

That evening, when their fellow B&B dwellers had dared to return, Myka made a successful (if slightly painful) attempt to walk on her damaged feet, and she managed to make it downstairs with only a few swear words. They had dinner together, sat round the table where Artie gave them their assignments. It was a pleasant evening, and although Myka still couldn’t look at Artie, they were all together and there was so much love between them that it occasionally made Myka’s eyes fill up. Claudia was as protective over Steve as Myka was over Helena, now. Abigail and Leena made an adorable match, and the surge of love she felt now every time she saw Pete was so strong that it made her heart ache. He was willing to give his life to bring back Helena for her. Not that he didn’t care about Helena himself, because he did, but because it destroyed Myka to lose her. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what love was. Pete caught her looking at him and smiled widely, with a mouthful of food. She smiled back, because even though he was infuriating and childish, he was her best friend, and she couldn’t ask for more, looking round the table, than what she had, here. A family, and the woman she loved.

 

*

 

Helena was somewhat confused by her death and resurrection. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, because such was the life of a Warehouse agent. But it was the first time that her absence had caused anyone so much pain. Myka was damaged, now, because of her. Her beautiful soulmate was too thin and was so fragile, not at all like the strong, confident woman she had been when they first met in London. She had practically fallen asleep in mid-sentence the night before at dinner, and Pete had carried her upstairs with a look of concern on his face.

 

“You will look after her, won’t you, HG?” he asked worriedly.

 

She met his gaze sincerely.

 

“Of course, Pete.”

 

He smiled in response, his heart apparently much lighter. Helena wished she had that kind of simplicity in her heart. Once, she would have been contemptuous of Pete, but now she almost envied him. And he had, she reminded herself, been willing to give his life for Myka. He trusted Helena to look after Myka, simply because she said she would.

 

She wrapped herself around Myka’s sleeping body in their bed, relishing the warmth and the contact. She hadn’t been conscious of anything, of the passing of time or of herself, until she woke up outside her own grave beside Peter. But Myka had lived through every moment of those months without her. Helena sighed and kissed Myka’s shoulder. She hoped that she would be given the opportunity to nurse Myka back to full strength and to make up for her absence somehow. She was still concerned about the matter of whether she was really Myka’s soulmate or not; no-one had apparently looked into it any further after her death, or perhaps they had simply chosen not to mention it to Myka since it was irrelevant in the circumstances and would have served only to upset her further. Helena decided to get in contact with Mrs Frederic the next day and finally managed to quiet her racing mind enough to sleep with Myka in her arms.

 

The following morning was one of revelations. First Leena told them about her TiMER, and her matching with Abigail, and said that she believed it was a result of Helena’s death that they had met at all. Helena didn’t quite know what to make of that. And then Irene had appeared from the ether and told her that she was, truly, Myka’s soulmate, her one true match as determined by the goblet of Antony and Cleopatra. As the news sunk in, Helena felt something within her break. Her brother Charles would probably have described it poetically as a wall or a dam. He was always the better writer – Helena had always, truly, been a storyteller rather than a writer at heart. But whatever it was, dam or wall, its absence allowed her to breathe freely, to feel her love for Myka fully for the first time since Walter Sykes had told her about what he’d done. When Myka kissed her, she felt, once again, that her world had tilted, just a little. Righted itself.

 

Their lovemaking that day was both a relief, physically, from the frustration that was pulling at her insides, and a revelation – much as it had been when they had first fallen into one another when Helena was released from hospital in London. Helena remembered that day vividly not only because it was so pleasant to revisit, but because the strength of her own feelings for Myka had shocked her. And they were shocking in their intensity once again, on that bed in a B&B in South Dakota, of all places. She was with Myka, truly with her, and she didn’t have to worry that she would do something to hurt or damage her, somehow. She just had to allow herself to be happy with this incredible woman. It was a heady feeling.

 

The dinner they shared that night was one that Helena would not forget. It was the first time in her life that she had felt a sense of truly belonging. When she was growing up, her quick mind and even quicker mouth had led to her becoming somewhat of an outcast with her peers and her scandalised family, and even at Warehouse 12 she had been tolerated, rather than welcomed – by everyone but Caturanga. Here, she was accepted as an equal, something that she had always truly wanted but never really believed she would experience. The easy conversation, the good-natured teasing and banter- it settled somewhere under her skin, warming her. Her bond with Myka was the centre of her life, now, but this group of people felt like a family to her. She was fond of them all in different ways, and she saw the way they all fitted together and complemented one another. And she was, truly, a part of that. She saw Leena smiling at her a few times during the evening, and later, when they were making tea together in the kitchen, asked her why.

 

Leena smiled and gave her a sly sidelong look.

 

“I will smile at you every day for the rest of my life, HG. You saved my life. Remember how I told you that I thought you were going to change things for the better?” At Helena’s nod, she continued. “Well, this is what I meant. You saved me, you brought my soulmate to me, and you brought this group of people together in a way that they have never been before. I was looking round the table and our auras are all merged, like how yours and Myka’s always are, but more powerful because there are more of us. You’ve made us a real team, Helena. And you and Myka are at the centre of it.”

 

Helena was overcome, and just smiled in reply. She couldn’t force out any words past the huge lump in her throat. To belong somewhere – it was something she had never before experienced. She breathed deeply and returned to the table with Leena and several trays of tea and coffee and biscuits – no, cookies. That’s what they called them here. She sat and Myka’s arm slipped around her waist. She turned to Myka and kissed her, smiling. The life of a Warehouse agent was not an easy one, nor would it be entirely free of heartache. But Helena thought that if this was her reward – the woman in her arms and the people around this table – it would be worth it.


	26. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part. Thanks to you all for reading.

_Epilogue_

 

Helena turned to smile brightly at Claudia as she wiped oil from her hands with a rag.

 

“Hey HG. Is it done?”

 

“It is indeed. I’m fairly sure that the last modification will make it work smoothly.”

 

Claudia nodded, examining the Time Machine, the series of other artefacts and the interface that she had devised with Fargo – all of which were now working together with Antony and Cleopatra’s goblet to make the TiMER backwards compatible, in the sense that it allowed the identification of soulmates who had already met before the TiMER was invented. Paracelsus had been a difficult adversary and had almost beaten them, but Claudia had, as future caretaker, managed to imprison him safely and without further incident. After a series of conversations with Helena, he had agreed to share his research on combining artefacts. Claudia didn’t really want to think about how difficult it must have been for Helena to refuse the opportunity to use the ingenious mix of artefacts that Paracelsus had appropriated to make the Time Machine physically transport a person to another time. Claudia wasn’t sure why Helena had decided not to go and rescue Christina, but the decision had come after several days of earnest conversations between HG, Myka, Leena and Abigail. Finally, HG had closed herself away with Mrs F for a few hours and they both came out smiling, but with tears clearly visible on their faces as HG announced that she would be leaving Christina to her rest.  Claudia secretly thought it was for the best. HG was a natural mother, you could tell. In the last two years she’d been practically a surrogate mother to Claudia. But rescuing Christina would have risked other potential changes to the timeline, and after what Paracelsus had done Claudia was pretty sure that messing with the past was a really bad idea. Too many things could go wrong.

 

The glint from her own left wrist caught her attention and she sighed, sitting on a crate nearby for a moment.

 

“What is it, Claudia?” Helena asked, setting down the rag and coming to sit next to Claudia, putting an arm around her shoulder in concern.

 

“I…I was just thinking about my TiMER. I was wondering if I’ll meet anyone. If I’ll ever get to be as happy as you and Myka,” she said morosely.

 

Helena smiled at her, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Claudia’s ear tenderly.

 

“I have no doubt of it, Claudia Donovan. There are many reasons why yours might be blank. It might be that your soulmate is too poor to afford the TiMER. It is, after all, rather pricey. Something I have every intention of taking up with the Regents the next time I see them. We should have some sort of program for those who can’t pay, don’t you think? This sort of happiness shouldn’t be contingent on one’s financial status.”

 

Claudia nodded, smiling. She had heard HG’s thoughts on this subject before. Despite the fact that she pretty much reeked of class, HG Wells had come from humble beginnings herself.

 

“In any case, your soulmate could be too poor, or they could be a believer in being surprised. Or they might not have been born yet. Did you think of that?”

 

Claudia gaped at her.

 

“What are you trying to say, HG? That I’m some sort of…cradle-snatching weirdo?”

 

Helena grinned.

 

“Come now, Claudia. Myka is over a century younger than I am. Does that make me a cradle-snatching weirdo? I’m simply pointing out that, given that Caretakers appear to be long-lived, as a general rule, your lifespan might be as long as mine, or longer. Destiny has great things in store for you, Claudia, and I have no doubt at all that your destiny will include a greater share of happiness than most. Look at us – all of us. We risk our lives to deal with dangers that no other group of people on earth has to face. We sacrifice so much for the Warehouse. I believe that if we are lucky enough to live, we get – and we deserve – a happiness that others can only dream of. The love Myka and I share – I had never dared to dream of anything like it. And here I am, nearing my 150th birthday, and sitting in the Warehouse with my closest friend, on a wonderful day like this, in love with a woman who was born more than 110 years after I was. If that doesn’t reassure you, my dear, then I don’t know what will. We who are held in the Warehouse’s regard soon learn the importance of destiny and fate. Yours is yet to be made clear, yes. But it will be a wonderful one, my dear.”

 

She pulled Claudia to her and kissed her temple.

 

“Aw, HG. You say the sweetest things,” Claudia said, a flush rising to cover her face in what was likely the brightest colour possible for a human to display. To cover, she stood up and bowed to HG with a flourish.

 

“So, shall we go get you ready?”

 

Helena smiled again, this time softly as she contemplated the importance of the day to come. Claudia followed her to the Warehouse library, where a small section had been transformed into a dressing room for just this occasion. HG disappeared behind a screen, thankfully not displaying her assets shamelessly as she usually did (for the sole purpose of making Claudia blush, she was sure). A few minutes later, HG emerged from behind the screen, looking every inch the Victorian in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and the obligatory waistcoat and pocketwatch. Over the waistcoat she wore a morning coat in recognition of the occasion. She looked, as she would have put it, dashing. She had vetoed a cane and top hat, and while Claudia was secretly a little sad about that, (because HG Wells in a top hat would have been **so** Dr Who) she had to admit that like this, with her long hair unbound, the woman was just stunning. The dark brown leather boots she was wearing set the outfit off nicely. She was quite the Victorian hottie, in Claudia’s opinion. (Claudia herself was sporting a similar outfit, but she had decided to go with the top hat and cane. She was pretty sure she was rocking the shit out of the steampunk vibe.)

 

“You look amazing, HG. Myka is gonna love it.”

 

HG smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she thought about her soulmate.

 

“Do you think so? You don’t think the morning coat is too much?”

 

“Of course not. Myka loves it when you dress all Victorian. So, are you ready?”

 

“I believe I am. Shall we?”

 

HG offered her arm to Claudia in a cheery and chivalrous fashion. Claudia suppressed a giggle. HG slayed her when she was like this.

 

They got in the car and drove to the B&B where the guests were assembled. As the best man, Claudia accompanied Helena to the small raised dais that Pete and Artie had built for the occasion. Mrs F was officiating, to no-one’s surprise, and Pete was standing up for Myka. Claudia was honoured that HG had asked her to stand for her. She had no-one here, other than the Warehouse team, but Claudia was still honoured to be chosen for an auspicious occasion like this. These guys were her family, and HG and Myka were at the centre of it, now.

 

Claudia was lost in thought about her little family and how much it had changed since HG arrived, when a loud beeping caught her attention. Artie was in the front row of the guests and Vanessa Calder had just arrived, looking elegant as usual. The beeping – it was their TiMERs.

 

Claudia and HG stared at each other for a moment, and Claudia jumped around for a moment in glee as she realised what had happened. Then they went to speak to a dumbstruck Artie and Vanessa to explain the backwards-compatibility of the TiMER now that it was linked to HG’s Time Machine.

 

Vanessa looked from HG to Claudia, her usual poise missing in action.

 

“So – we’ve been soulmates this whole time, but because we didn’t have TiMERs when we met, they stayed blank?”

 

Helena nodded.

 

“That’s right. And now we’ve linked it to my Time Machine, among other devices and artefacts, the TiMER will identify soulmates who met before the TiMER was invented. Rather clever, even if I do say so myself.” She smiled rather smugly, an Artie gave her a mock glare. They were good friends, now, despite their past. Artie relied on Helena rather heavily for technical help and input on artefacts she knew of from her time at Warehouse 12. The last vestige of his opposition to her presence had disappeared a few days after she was resurrected, when she and Myka walked together into the Warehouse. HG was supporting Myka, because she was so thin and her feet were still painful. As they opened the door and stepped out of the umbilicus, an apple had rolled across the floor and stopped at the toe of her impeccable boots. Claudia and Artie were in the office and the expression that crossed Artie’s face – annoyance, resignation, and then happiness – had confused the hell out of Claudia, until HG had explained the significance of the apple. The Warehouse was thanking her for sacrificing herself, and telling her – and by extension, Artie – that she belonged at the Warehouse.

 

“Congratulations, Arturo!” Claudia said, hugging the grumpy man tightly. He blushed, and it only got brighter as Vanessa took his hand and looked at him wonderingly. They had been seeing each other for a while but Artie was uncharacteristically shy and reticent with her. From Vanessa’s current expression of determination, it looked like there might be another wedding on the horizon soon.

 

Helena gave Vanessa and Artie a delighted smile and a hug, and they returned to the dais to await the arrival of her bride. She began to fidget nervously with her pocketwatch, and Claudia grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

 

“Relax, HG. It’s traditional for the bride to be a little late. But given that it’s Myka, she’ll probably be here right on time, down to the second.”

 

Helena smiled nervously. Her expression changed a moment later into a mix of awe and the kind of love that Claudia dreamed about finding. Claudia turned and there she was, Myka Bering, Warehouse Agent and all-round badass, encased in a strapless satin gown with her hair in a waterfall braid – two braided sections meeting at her crown, with the rest loose and curly about her shoulders. There were white flowers braided into her hair – probably Leena’s work – and she looked incredible. Claudia was stunned, but HG looked about ready to pass out.

 

“Breathe, HG. Can’t have you dying on your wedding day now, can we? Myka would kill me,” Claudia whispered out of the side of her mouth.

 

Helena smiled wryly – after taking a breath.

 

“I suppose not, Claudia. But I would die a happy woman,” she breathed.  

 

Helena’s eyes returned to her blushing bride. Claudia’s heart was full of warm and fuzzy feelings as she saw Pete in his military uniform escorting Myka up the aisle, followed by Abigail and Leena and Tracy, Myka’s sister, who were acting as bridesmaids. Myka had decided to ask Pete to walk her down the aisle, rather than her father, because Warren Bering had been less than supportive of her match with Helena. After a few shouting matches between her soulmate and her father, Myka had talked to him and gave him an ultimatum – either he accepted her relationship with Helena, or they couldn’t have a relationship at all. The stubborn old fool hadn’t been in touch since. Myka’s mother was here, thankfully. Jeannie had been sweet and had ignored Warren’s attitude, saying simply that she didn’t share his feelings and it was up to him to decide how he behaved. It was clear that she thought he was being a giant ass, but she was kind enough to not say that out loud about her husband. Claudia had said it often and loudly enough to make up for Jeannie’s silence.

 

As Myka reached the dais and Pete handed her over to Helena, Claudia’s heart just about stopped at the look on her face. She was luminous. She had been happier this last two years than Claudia had ever seen her, but this – this was a whole new level of bliss. Claudia let out an unintentionally loud sigh and Myka and Helena turned to stare at her. Claudia reddened, and it went from red to crimson in about five seconds flat when she heard Leena’s raucous laughter from across the dais. Within seconds, everyone was in fits of giggles, except for Claudia who was trying very hard not to die of embarrassment. Even Mrs Frederic cracked a smile. Claudia covered her cheeks and willed them to turn back to their normal shade as Mrs Frederic began the words of the marriage ceremony.

 

*

 

Pete was walking Myka Bering down the aisle. It was like a dream come true. His partner, looking so damn beautiful, with her hair all braided with flowers and her face looking that way it did when she looked at HG – he was so happy for her he was about ready to burst. As they passed the last row of guests he smiled as he saw her – Amanda, his fiancée. His smile widened as he remembered the day _that_ had happened. Apparently it was possible to _become_ someone’s soulmate. It turned out that sometimes, soulmates needed to go through different experiences – sometimes even marry someone else – before they were ready to be one another’s. HG had tried to explain it to him, with all her artefact voodoo knowledge, but he wasn’t sure he really got it. Amanda was already separated from Michael Martin when Pete and Steve met her on an artefact retrieval in Arizona. Pete had been waiting for his TiMER to go off like a kid waiting for Christmas, but when it was Amanda? He was so confused he didn’t know what to do. The first week of their furlough was confusing and awkward and familiar and then…he still wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly things were just so… _right_ that he almost cried. They were getting married as soon as Myka and HG got back from their honeymoon. Couldn’t get married without his best man, now, could he? He returned his mind to the present and handed a luminous Myka over to a stunned (and exceptionally hot-looking) HG. Claudia was looking dapper and a little bit pimp-y with her top hat and cane. It was awesome. Pete was wearing a pretty normal wedding outfit with the silk waistcoat, as HG insisted on calling it, and the cravat and all that. He stood beside Myka and smiled until his face ached.

 

*

 

Helena Wells was getting married. She was standing in front of her friends and waiting for the love of her life to walk down the aisle to meet her. It was a day she hadn’t ever craved, unlike so many of the young women she grew up with. For her, marriage had always been the ultimate cage. Marriage meant a husband, which meant giving up her freedom, her independence, her intellect, to have children and to do what she was told. Helena G Wells did not crave that institution. This, however, was something quite different. This marriage was a meeting of minds, of equals. In the past two years, she and Myka had grown stronger together, both as individuals and as a couple. Her decision to leave Christina to her rest, rather than using the time machine that Paracelsus had put together had erased the final barrier between them. Her difficulty in accepting her daughter’s death was the one thing that remained unresolved. After long conversations with Abigail, Leena, Myka, and Irene, she had decided that the timeline should remain unchanged. In doing so, she had let Christina go, had truly moved on and allowed herself to be happy. The decision had almost broken her, but Myka was there to hold her when she cried, to console her, to love her.

  
The first sight of Myka in her wedding dress quite stole the breath from Helena’s lungs. It wasn’t just what she was wearing; it was the look on her face. Helena was fairly sure that Myka’s smile could have powered the Warehouse for a month. Her own happiness welled up in her and her vision blurred. Claudia reminded her to breathe, and she filled her lungs, her eyes filled with the vision that was Myka Bering, the woman to whom she was soon to be married.

 

The wedding day passed very much in a blur, but one moment stood out in sharp relief from the rest. Helena would always remember the look in Myka’s eyes when Helena slipped the ring on her finger and she said “I do.”  It was a look of intense joy that Helena would bring to mind in years to come when they were apart or times were difficult. A reminder that no matter what happened, they made each other happy.

 

*

 

Myka Ophelia (not ‘Over’) Bering (soon to be –Wells) was strong, independent, intelligent – a truly modern woman. And a complete sap for one particular time-travelling Victorian. The first sight of Helena in her full on steampunk getup made her grin, and then this stupid giddy happiness welled up in her and she started filling up. She blinked the tears away – she hadn’t spent an hour on her makeup for nothing – and smiled at Helena, slightly foolishly, as she walked up the aisle on Pete’s arm. Helena’s answering smile was stunningly beautiful, the most joyous expression Myka had ever seen on her face.

 

Myka had to laugh when she saw Claudia’s top hat and cane. She looked like a tiny pimp from a rap music video. It was awesome. Pete was laughing too.

 

Myka could remember pretty much everything she’d ever read or seen. It was an ability that was equal parts blessing and curse. Today, however, the blessing part would win out.  Because she didn’t think she’d ever see anything as beautiful as Helena’s smile when Mrs Frederic pronounced them married and they looked down at their joined hands with their wedding bands (fashioned, of course, by Helena) firmly in place on their ring fingers. Their TiMERs had long since been removed, but the metal part of the device had been melted down and reforged into the wedding bands that they now wore, with the date and the time – down to the second – that they had met engraved on the inside. Helena’s smile, while pointed primarily at their joined hands, was shy and tentative and luminous and wonderful in every possible way. And their first kiss as a married couple – well, it was awkward, in front of their friends, as these things can be, but it was also just as electric as their very first proper kiss on a sidewalk in London. It was shockingly passionate and reminded them, as if they needed such a reminder, that they were bonded in a way that went beyond simple compatibility or chemistry. They were soulmates. And as Myka looked into the dark but shining eyes of Helena Wells, the only thing she needed to remember was that they were happier together than they ever would be apart, and that no matter what came at them in this insane life that they’d chosen, they would face it together.

 

“You’re not going to give me a black eye this time, are you?” Myka asked archly under her breath, as they turned to face their guests.

 

“I shall try to resist the urge,” Helena said dryly, as applause broke out. In the end, she did resist that particular urge – but not the more pressing one, which was to kiss her wife again until they were both flushed and breathless as their family and friends looked on in mixed amusement and joy.

 

As they walked down the aisle towards the B&B, Helena smiled, turning to Myka.

  
“Do you smell that?”

 

Myka nodded.

 

“Apples,” she said, with a contented smile.

 

Behind them, Mrs Frederic smiled. It was, in its own way, terrifying, because it was not entirely human, that smile. But it was the smile of an entity that had arranged things to its own liking, and saw that it was good.

 

“Endless wonder,” she murmured under her breath, hearing an answering whisper from the Warehouse. She smiled again and disappeared, to wherever Caretakers go.

 

THE END

 


End file.
